Forging Connections
by littlelights
Summary: Post episode 2x18 JONES. They met while working on a case. She gave him her card and he made the call. Detective William LaMontagne finally connects with Jennifer Jareau off the clock. Rated for content of later chapters. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter One**

_Jareau: (to Det. LaMontagne) Well, despite what you may have heard, cell phones can be very good for your health._

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

It had been a day of mix ups and miss matches, and Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau hadn't had the patience for either category. She was accustomed to order; neat file cabinets, well-reviewed paperwork, precise facts and the recognizable patterns of human behavior. She was also accustomed to giving orders, mainly because she could assert her will when it became important to organize the media, or to help acclimate the grief and panic stricken to the harsh realities of life.

She could also take orders, because her job required teamwork and hierarchy to produce top results. JJ might have felt restrained by the framework at the beginning, but today she could appreciate the stability of that system. It was only in her professional life that her day resembled any sense of order or accomplishment.

Her trip to the dry cleaners had resulted in dropping her order into a rather deep and muddy puddle. The grocery store was out of her brand of soy milk, and upon closer inspection of her hair, she could have sworn she saw grey strands sticking out near the top of her scalp.

In the crush of the grocery store, she had forgotten to purchase the frozen food entrees which constituted half her weekly dinner meals.

'It just keeps getting better,' she thought blankly as she unlocked her apartment and begrudgingly emptied the contents of her shopping bags.

As much as she tried to separate her job from her rapidly disappearing private life, JJ realized the details of cases drifted in her mind for weeks and sometimes months at a time.

Jason Gideon had cautioned during her first week on the job, "These things will stay with you, sometimes for years and subside. Then out of the blue, an image or a situation will hit you sideways, and you won't be able to let it go. It's a heavy burden, so you have to be aware of it."

Tonight was shaping up to be a mental re-run of work. And it made her more than a little despondent at the prospect of lying awake all night unable to turn her brain off.

The groceries were cleared away and the dishes in the sink were admonishing her for their state of being.

_Great JJ, you're receiving guilt trips from inanimate objects. Fantastic._

Her cell phone began to ring halfway through the dish rinsing process. She almost wanted to let it go, to ignore whoever was waiting for her on the other end of the line. But her stubborn sense of commitment took over, and hastily tossing aside her yellow plastic dish gloves, JJ determinedly answered the phone on the fifth ring.

"Jareau speaking."

The short silence from the caller threatened to agitate her temperamental mood. There were moments she hated cell phones, and this was probably going to become one of them.

"Ms. Jareau," the voice responded. "It's William LaMontagne."

The mounting tension in her head lessened, and JJ exhaled. This was somewhat unexpected. Detective LaMontagne had acted as her group's liaison during the Jack the Ripper-esq case nearly a week ago. Lanky and somewhat somber, LaMontagne had initially behaved as most public officials in his position: well informed, proactive and fiercely protective of the citizens and his city. But he had set himself apart in the almost unobtrusive way he'd shown his interest.

It had taken him nearly a week, but he'd finally taken up the impulsive and hesitant invitation to call her.

"Hello," JJ began. "How are you, detective?"

There was an awkward silence from both sides. JJ sighed, not liking how the conversation was beginning. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. You're probably not working and I haven't had the greatest day."

After a slight pause, LaMontagne composed his voice. "If this is a bad time…"

"No," JJ admonished. "It's not, this is fine. I've been thinking about work too much. But you already know all about that."

"Comes with the job," he admitted. The tone of his voice eased into something more natural.

They shared another pause.

"I was wondering if you'd call," JJ said after a moment. It was strange, but she could feel his mood shift, as if he was almost smiling. In her experience, LaMontagne kept a pretty straight face. She never really saw him crack so much as a grin the entire time they'd worked together. But she could have sworn he had almost smiled when he admittedly flirted with her the night they were working away from the police station.

"I figured you don't hand out your cards off the clock," he said.

"It's not a habit," JJ confessed. "And you're right, I don't normally, well ever pass out any information. About me, anyway."

_Stop babbling. Stop trying to think. Just talk_.

"I'm glad you made an exception."

The break in conversation felt charged, and JJ felt intrigued and a little apprehensive. She was having a conversation, or an impending conversation, due to her own actions.

"So, now that we're away from work, what can I call you?" He asked.

"JJ," she said, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Everyone who knows me calls me JJ."

"JJ," he repeated, his accent played with the letters to the point where they almost changed meaning. "Childhood nickname?"

JJ dried her hands on the kitchen towel and settled herself comfortably on the couch. "My parents still call me Jennifer. But my friends and everyone at work uses JJ. I actually prefer it more than anything else. How about you? You're a junior so are you Bill or Billy or Junior?"

"Will," he responded. "My daddy never liked the name William. But he said mom insisted on the name. It confused the hell outta everyone. But he called me Billy, and to everyone else he was Bill."

"Two different combinations derived from the same name."

"Exactly."

"And you outgrew Billy."

"Yeah, it's a name for a twelve-year-old. I dropped it when I joined the force. But I was always Billy to my dad."

And the conversation flowed. Maybe it was because she was tired or desperate for some sort of distraction from her mental state, but they talked. About their families, airplane travel, restaurants and bad vacations. Strings of thought which wound around pieces of experiences and were explained in the strange and common place stories of their lives.

Bill LaMontagne intrigued her, and made her almost wary at the same time. He was polite, respective, and easy going. As their conversation lengthened, she felt as if she was falling into phone receiver. She was almost afraid of him, because he was a totally decent guy.

The kind of man you could fall for and never really recover.

When JJ glanced at the digital clock on her microwave, she was taken back at the time on the readout. 11:34 p.m. They'd been talking for three and a half hours. Her focus on the time left another gap in the conversation.

"JJ?"

"Sorry." She said. "I drifted off for a second. I didn't realize how late it is. Your phone bill is going to kill you this month."

"Don't worry about it." He replied. "You have to work in the morning?"

"Yes, I do." JJ said with a slight sigh.

They'd avoided talking about work all evening, and the introduction of it into conversation again made for a long pause between them. It was if neither of them wanted to speak. For the first time in a long time, JJ mused, she was enjoying something simple. Something normal women enjoy. Well, lucky women, anyway.

"Can I call you again?" He asked. "On Saturday when you're not so busy?"

It was an offer, she recognized. An opportunity to let herself out of his call and never have to speak with him again outside of work.

But if she allowed herself to use the exit he gave her, Jennifer Jareau knew she would regret it for the rest of her life.

"How about Friday night?" She countered. "I don't have anything going on. Well, other than domestic thrills like laundry."

"I'll call at seven thirty. Talk to you later, JJ."

"Goodnight, Bill."

JJ clicked the off button on her phone and stretched. She paddled into the bedroom, changed her clothes and brushed her teeth.

As she pulled back the covers, she realized that she wasn't thinking about work. Or about anything else at all, for that matter. Her mind was blissfully empty. And the stray thoughts that were growing were centered on Bill LaMontagne.

And that didn't disturb her sleep one bit.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Please Read and Review.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Two**

_Det. LaMontagne: Why aren't you married?_

_JJ: Uh, that involves this case how exactly?_

_Det. LaMontagne: It doesn't. I'm just flirting._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

William LaMontagne Junior was a patient man. He approached his workload in a methodical manner, aware how facts and personalities could change the direction of a case. He'd always been subtle, somewhat reserved, and had a gift of knowing how actions could determine the outcome of a situation.

It was only since Hurricane Katrina that he'd become more somber than his quiet demeanor dictated. The death of his father still weighed heavily on his mind. Amid the rain, winds and flooding, Will lost his parent and his hero. The city had been inundated with so many of victims, there hadn't been any special ceremony for William LaMontagne Senior. During that time in New Orleans, the manner of death made everyone equal.

With his father's death, Will was parentless. What family he had, were cousins who lived upstate or in Florida. He had friends, of course. Guys he grew up with and the people at work. Many of his colleagues in the police department had served with or mentored him during his career.

He dated when it suited him. And in a city like New Orleans, there were women of all shapes and personalities. There were more than enough pretty girls to please the eye. He'd seen them flirt, pout and dance. William was careful around the opposite sex. Respectful and courteous. He'd been involved with a women, but he was just as content not to have girlfriend. No one had suited him, or understood the dedication to his profession. Following his father's death, grief and time wove his days into a garbled state.

Then a serial killer began working the French Quarter.

Grief was pushed aside, and sleep became an unwelcome habit. Two days later Bill spoke briefly with the liaison for the FBI Behavioral Analysis Team, and continued to search for clues on the case. Over the telephone, the liaison agent sounded genuinely concerned with the city's crisis. After placing the phone back in its cradle, he wondered what sort of aid he'd receive. He briefly pondered what type of woman would extend her hand and greet him with the voice he'd heard on the phone.

When he met a stunning woman with blonde hair and a straight-forward manner, something in his head told him to step up and pay attention. The indescribable something about Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau not only caught his eye, but held another part of him like a vice.

Their phone calls were frequent, and although he could say he knew more about her than any of the women he'd dated, there was a growing sensation which drifted in and out of his mind: he wanted to see her again.

In the month since they'd begun their strange telephone tango, Bill's perception and routine had changed. He looked forward to the conversations they'd had, sharing his life in confortable measurements. Even over the phone, he could see her sitting on a tasteful living room couch brushing bits of stray hair away out of her eyes and paddling barefoot across the kitchen floor. Part of his baser personality could take those musings to another level, but he'd rather explore those thoughts in person. He wanted to watch her blush and recover to that precise Pennsylvania Quaker manner he often associated with her upbringing.

Not bothering to turn on all the lights of his apartment, Bill tucked his coat into the closet and scrolled down to JJ's number on his cell phone. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he pushed the send button and waited.

"Hey Bill," JJ greeted with a warm voice. "You're home later than usual."

"I was picking up a few things," He said. "I had to stop by a few places before the party kept me out of the Quarter tonight."

They had agreed not to discuss their work on the phone. There were privacy and security issues to consider. But he tried not to lie to her outright. He had picked up a few suspects for police department two parishes over. Then he made a visit to one of his informants. The one personal stop he made in the French Quarter was for a sandwich at Café Maspero. "What do you have lined up for the night?"

"Nothing much. House work, mainly. We just flew in from Louisville." She sighed. "Four solid days of craziness. Thanks for the voice mails, by the way. They kept me sane."

"Anytime."

"I was only able to send off a few texts because of…well, everything."

"Darlin', I know."

"Paper work's a bitch." JJ bit into the words. She sounded somewhat agitated, but Will figured it was the post-case rush of emotions. People dealt with it in different ways, and JJ's remedy was to point out more than obvious facts. "I could go to bed and stay there for a week. I could just stare at the ceiling and pretend the plaster cracks are clouds."

Will hedged his comments. They normally let each other release some of their career related tensions on the phone. The exercise was normally short and received with patience. But this time he interrupted her thoughts. "Thinking of taking some time off?"

It was JJ's turn to weigh her thoughts. "I've been asking myself that question. I haven't booked any vacation days since last year." She was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Why?"

_Here goes nothing._ Bill thought. "Have dinner with me." He said. "Washington, New Orleans it doesn't matter. Take some time off. I want to see you, away from work so you won't scold me for drinking on the clock."

When she didn't answer right away, time seemed to stretch like elastic. The tension finally snapped when he heard her say, "What time do you want to pick me up?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Penelope Garcia was accustomed to strange behavior. Her job with the BAU entitled her to more than her fair share of crazy people and what made them tick. She also knew her co-workers pretty well. For the amount of time they spent together, Garcia had become a specialist in profiling the individuals in her office. If she had to set them on a scale, people like Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss would have to be lower on the scale of chartability. It was easy to see their likes and dislikes, their attitudes and actions. Then there were her top of the scale characters, namely her supervisors Jason Gideon and Aaron Hotchner. Bottomless limits of patience and brains. If they weren't working heading up her department, she was sure they had the full capability to become evil masterminds.

Somewhere in the middle was Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau. There were more layers beneath that blonde hair and pretty face than most anyone could credit the girl for possessing. JJ was smart, hardworking and was a dependable member of the team. She had a sense of humor, but had a somewhat repressed sense of self.

So outwardly, JJ's routine that week did not differ from her traditional pattern. Her work was completed on time and above standard. She worked with Emily on a few back cases and researched information for Hotch. But there were small subtleties that were unnoticeable to anyone but the goddess of information.

When the younger blonde booked vacation time, that one act in itself didn't necessarily a send up a red flag. The longer errand and grocery lists didn't raise any eyebrows. The presence of a small pink post-it note inside JJ's personal planner wasn't initially a tip off. But when Penelope saw how JJ's eyes lingered on the message written on the note, it was time to get the details.

After lunch, Garcia found some excuse to stroll by the other woman's desk and casually ask for her opinion on a non-priority project. JJ agreed, and so they fell into a round of small talk while her technological alter conducted a few searches.

"So, what's up with your vacation plans," Garcia began. "Are you flying someplace exotic or sticking close to the coast?" When JJ's demeanor didn't change, Penelope was struck by a moment of inspiration. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "A date with a hottie? The tall dark and handsome type?"

That did it.

JJ's eyes shot to the ground so quickly, Garcia knew she had her answer.

"Ahhh. So our baby girl has a date. Dish. I want to know what's happening."

"I really can't talk about it, Garcia." JJ said carefully.

"So, he's in the trade." Penelope said. Behind JJ's cool persona, a slight color was filling her cheeks. "Mr. Lawman, huh? Well, I guess it could be a good move. They're all about the 'yes, ma'am' respect. Could be a good time. But you haven't been out on a lot of tall, dark and handsome cases since…"

"I've got to get back to work," JJ said, practically scrambling to leave the conversation. "There are a thousand things I need to finish for Hotch." Her back was turned when Garcia began typing furiously on the computer terminal.

"A-ha!" The techno-goddess pronounced. "He wouldn't happen to be a bit taller than you with big blue eyes and a detective's police badge?" JJ had the good sense to turn around and allow herself the luxury of to looking completely stunned. "Emily was telling me about this guy. The New Orleans case a month ago. I just have to get a look at him myself."

JJ was about to protest, but within a few seconds, Garcia's screen was littered with the records and photo files of William LaMontagne Jr.

"Nine solid years of excellent police service," Garcia read. "No internal investigations. No infractions. Was awarded a metal for special services to the city after Hurricane Katrina." She toggled over to the staff and newspaper photos on file. Penelope looked at them a moment, then looked up and smiled brilliantly at JJ. "Damn. I love a man who fills out his uniform."

Three minutes and several promises of details later, JJ escaped back to her desk and sighed heavily. Garcia was sworn to silence for what she knew, but it was going to cost JJ a fair bit of privacy and a couple four-packs of Starbucks espresso. Still, it was an unexpected windfall to have someone to confide in about her impending visitor.

Lying carefully on the desk, her planner was closed from prying eyes. JJ was careful to open it to the tabbed page and read what she had written last week on her pink post-it note.

**Flight 32 10:32 a.m. Friday. **

She gave the post-it one more read through, closed her planner, and proceeded to finish the research Hotch had assigned earlier in the morning.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Please read and review


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: Thanks for all the great reviews. I really appreciate all the feedback. Keep sending them in! I love to hear what you all are thinking.

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Three**

_Det. LaMontagne: Testosterone will follow a woman to Thailand, barefoot._

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

No parking.

It was the fifth sign of its kind she'd found in the most convenient places near the airport terminal. Just this once, JJ Jareau thought, it would have been a great perk if the FBI had given all their agents a 'park where ever the hell you want' pass. It was one of the few stereotypes from the movies that she wished would transition into real life. Agent Jareau parking right in front of the terminal pick up area, sandwiched between handicapped parking and the towing zone. And there wouldn't be a damn thing anyone could say or do about it.

After driving through seven rows, JJ proceeded toward the rear of the short term parking lot and found a vacant space. It was in a forsaken area a fair distance from the terminal doors, but it couldn't be helped. This was the best she was going to find whist keeping her sanity intact. Outwardly, she might not appear nervous and slightly anxious, but truthfully those two sensations were twisting her stomach in half.

_Deep breaths_. She thought as she walked through the lot. _Just breathe and let everything just fall into place_.

Three steps into the arrival area, she switched her cell phone onto vibrate and slipped it into her handbag. She'd been assured by Garcia that no one would call unless it was a major emergency.

"Look sweetie," Penelope said. "No one's going to call you unless everything hits the fan. And if anyone, let's say the ex-football hottie, does decide to make a play on your plans, they'll have to get past me first."

"I really appreciate that," JJ said sincerely.

"No worries. I'm sure you and 'Badge Boy' will appreciate an interruption free environment." Garcia flashed a wicked smile. "Have fun this week."

Have fun. Well, that was a new idea. What did people do for fun in the getting-to-know-you stage of a relationship. No, not a relationship. Hell, if it wasn't at the relationship stage than what was it and what could you call it? Friendship? Friendship with attraction?

JJ kept walking toward the arrival gate and felt a nervous twitch attack her stomach again. Oh God, had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking. She could see the newspaper and television catch lines now. Off duty Agent Jareau invites off duty police detective to her place for the week. More at eleven.

_You are calm and in control. You are focused. You are calm and in control._

The people around her at the welcome area were shifting back and forth, clutching crying babies, holding bouquets of flowers and chatting excitedly amongst each other. For the vast amount of time she'd spent traveling for her job, JJ had barely seen this section of the airport. The BAU filed off their private plane and left the facility by way of vehicles parked on the tarmac.

This was an entirely different experience. When travelers filed through the plexi-glass doors, their families would wave or yell their names. Smiles and tears were followed by long hugging spells. JJ almost felt like an intruder, witnessing all the affection between the people around her.

Out of respect, her eyes shifted around the room, trying to focus on something more mundane, when she saw him.

Lord, those eyes. Even from a distance, they had the potential to shake up her insides.

Bill was searching the crush of people, trying to match the few memories of her against the profiles in the crowd. Then he spotted the long blonde hair and sweet face of JJ Jareau. Will smiled faintly, his eyes drinking her in for the first time in a month. He walked toward her, a single black bag slung around his shoulder and a mock half-zip sweater and pair of jeans warding off the chill of the early Virginia spring.

When they were two steps apart, JJ smiled and reached out to grasp his hand. "Hey."

Bill felt the warm stretch of her fingers lace through his own, and it made him smile a little wider. "Hi, there." He said.

They were quiet for a few moments, adjusting to each other's physical presence. She hadn't meant to reach out for him first, but it just seemed to be the thing to do. They knew too much about each other for a short greeting and a stiff handshake. They'd barely shook hands when they met in New Orleans a month ago. It had been more of a cursorily brush of palms and a slight gripping pressure.

Now JJ had the opportunity to unconsciously digest how his hands felt in her own; larger, slightly callused and warm. She met his eyes again, feeling more excited than she had in a long time. "Did you have a good flight?"

"It was short, and I'm thankful." Bill replied, not ready to let go of her hand quite yet. He kissed the back of her hand, and watched her expression soften. During their week, he was looking forward to piecing moments like these together into a long string. It was something he could take with him when he flew back to New Orleans.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Springtime Virginia was a beauty to behold. The cherry and dogwood trees were in bloom, and the lush hills changed color in the sunlight. Spring flowers woke up from their frosty naps and greeted people from their carefully plotted garden pots and patches. It was a lovely time of the year to wander down to the local coffee shop and enjoy a hot drink outside in the sun.

To the rest of the world, they could have been an attached couple, catching up on their day off before going shopping or running errands. It wasn't a hard image to call up.

Their drive to her apartment had been amiable, not too chatty or quiet. JJ had shown him to her prepared guest bedroom without the awkwardness she'd expected. They were each comfortable in their separate lives, and it seemed to loosen some of the butterflies lingering in her stomach. When her guest had settled in, she invited him out for coffee and a walk through the shopping district.

They'd chatted amiably again for another hour. But gradually the conversation was beginning to boil down to the crux of his visit; if the dynamic they had was going to buildup toward something else.

Bill looked across the table at JJ and saw her trace the rim of her coffee cup absently with her pointer finger. "Want to share?" he asked.

"Hum?" JJ flushed. "Oh, no. Well, yes." She shook her head in a sign of defeat. "God, I'm not good at this."

She was cautious, and Bill couldn't blame her. It was tough to trust anyone on a personal level in their line of work, no matter what body chemistry might dictate. People were unpredictable until you could understand their ambitions and motivations. Personal walls were tough to break down, but if they couldn't be honest with each other, he felt like he was going to lose her before they even got started.

"Look, Jen," Bill said gently. "Ask me a question. Or as many as you like. I'll answer them best I can."

"What kind of questions can I ask?"

He didn't smile, but his eyes flashed humorously for a second. Focused now, he set his coffee cup on the table with a thoughtful expression. "You already know most of the facts, honey."

"How your favorite color is dark blue and you collect live performance albums?"

"And the ingredients for a po' boy."

JJ chuckled. "Alright. The questions I've never had the guts to ask." She paused, collecting her thoughts. She faced him earnestly. "Why me? And before you say it was because I'm pretty or confident or how you were overwhelmed by my personality, I've dated guys who have said all those things before and it never really amounted to anything…"

"When we met I wasn't focused on who you were." He said frankly. "I wanted to solve the case. We worked together just like any one else would at first. There was a lot riding on finding our killer. But being around you…" His voice ceased for a moment, warmed a little and then continued. "Yeah, you were dynamic. Hell yes, you were beautiful. Determined. Bossy even. Working with another agency isn't easy. And I wasn't looking for anything. It was like you snuck in when I wasn't looking, and wouldn't leave when I tried to shake you."

When she didn't interrupt him, he continued. 'Then you gave me your card. What should you do when you say goodbye to the most interesting woman you've ever met in your life? Do you let go, because it's easy? Or do you remember that she took a chance when she gave you her card? I would have been the stupidest bastard alive not to call you."

If it was possible to become a human puddle, JJ Jareau would have washed the length of the coffee shop sidewalk. She recovered quickly, pushing aside her thoughts until she could properly digest them later. "So, you don't think I'm a brainless idiot or a raving Amazon?"

Through her attempt at a quip, Bill knew he'd cleared another one of her doubts. He cracked another small smile, and downed the last sip of his coffee. "Doesn't matter. Either way, I've got your back."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Please feed the monkey! Remember to read and review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: Thanks for all the great reviews. I really appreciate all the feedback.

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Four**

_Hotch: Well, define love.  
Reid: Chemically, it involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, and serotonin. Love chemicals controlled by phenethylamine, Also found in--  
Emily: Chocolate. I love chocolate.  
Reid: Peas, too! It's also found in peas!_

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
_

She had a difficult choice ahead of her, and somehow she just didn't have the guts to make a final decision. So much was hinging on her solution to the toughest question ahead.

The blue dress or the gold dress.

The previous week, JJ had pulled four dresses out of her closet and weighed her options. Three turns in the mirror and she'd brought the choice down to two. She and Bill were going out to dinner tomorrow night and everything was planned except what to wear. Well, it was 2:30 a.m., and technically it was early enough in the morning to say dinner was later that day. She was exhausted, and wanted to fall asleep with a clear conscience. Looking at the two garments again, JJ felt the nip of indecision gnawing at her gut. She was going to need to make a call.

Hastily picking up the telephone receiver, JJ dialed the one person who would give her an honest and thoughtful opinion. The dial tone buzzed once.

"Talk to me, gorgeous," Garcia said.

"Why are you still awake?" JJ asked. "Have you been drinking Red Bull? Because we've talked about this."

Garcia ignored the questions. "How's your visitor? No wait, let me guess. He's used his guile and charm to conduct a through investigation of your boudoir. Did he find those faux fur handcuffs I gave you for Christmas last year?"

JJ smiled. "I hid those in the kitchen utensil drawer where they'd be safe."

"Kinky."

"Garcia, are you working?" JJ asked succinctly. "I need your help making a decision."

"I'm in the Bat Cave, waiting to strike fear into the lives of evil doers everywhere. But at the moment, I'm free to help you out. If it's in regards to those handcuffs I know this really great website that will tell you how to-…"

"We're really not at that point yet, Pen." JJ rushed. "I need to make a choice between dresses."

"Whatdaya have?"

"Gold or blue." JJ traced the hemline on the blue dress.

"That's a tough call," Garcia admitted. "So let's discuss motivation. What drew you to the blue dress conclusion?"

"It's his favorite color."

"Awww, cute. How about the gold one?"

"It's my favorite color."

"Aphrodite walking, huh? Well, why don't you wear your black dress? You look hot in black." Garcia restrained herself from adding that JJ would look good in a paper sack, but it wasn't wise to piss off a woman in a wardrobe crisis. Besides, even blonde Grecian goddesses had their limits. "Black has the power of seduction. You'll totally make him drool."

JJ had a list of reasons why she should have picked the little black dress. It was her usual choice, flattering neckline, good length and the fabric was versatile. It was a good date dress. Which is why she couldn't bring herself to wear the garment; it had been the dress she'd worn for the previous three 'first' dates. But seduction had never really been an issue before. "I've worn it before on other dates. I don't feel like jinxing anything. And if I was trying to seduce someone, I would probably wear a red dress."

Garcia chuckled, "Well, what are you waiting for? Pull that dress out of the closet!"

"Not everyone can be as brave as you, Garcia."

"But everyone still gets a little taste of what they're missing, sweetheart." Penelope said with a grin and barely restrained pride. "I know my red heels hold a certain sway over several men."

"Reid and Morgan don't count." Jen deadpanned. "But for the task at hand, what do you suggest?"

"If you're obsessing like this over a dress, then he'd better be worth it." Garcia pulled up a new internet search window and began logging onto her e-mail. "Well, I'm going to need a little research. Grab your camera phone."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bill drifted in and out of sleep, waking up to the sensation of a strange bed and the relative quiet of an early spring morning. The absence of sound; sirens, music and people in the street, was a welcome sensation. Coupled with Jenifer Jareau's dedication to creature comforts such as large pillows, soft blankets and 600 count sheets, he should have fallen asleep instantly. But his mind was unwilling to settle down. After his dad died, he remembered lying on his couch and experiencing an agonizing stretch of insomnia. He'd been worried, overwhelmed and grieving.

His reason for not succumbing to sleep tonight was blonde, slightly leggy, and probably asleep in her room. He welcomed the change of loosing sleep over winning the affections of a beautiful woman, as opposed to staring blank-eyed in the face of loss. His father had told him, as long as there was life, change would be its navigator. There was something comforting about that too.

They'd spent the day outside, wandering for hours around the winding streets. He remembered working with her in New Orleans and how different JJ was yesterday when they were walking side by side together. She was just as straightforward and observant, but her eyes were softer, and her gestures less calculated. They had shared a joke or two at each other's expense, and the sight of her smile made him wish he had the right to capture her face in his hands and kiss her.

But it wasn't the right moment, and it was in both their interests to be cautious while exploring their relationship. He wanted them to both walk away from the week intact. But it didn't prevent him squashing the knowing confidence that she was attracted to him, just as strongly as he was to her.

Bill rose from the bed and padded into the kitchen. Coffee wasn't the remedy he was looking for, but a glass of milk would go a long way toward settling his mind enough to sleep. Grabbing a glass from the drying rack, he felt his way to the refrigerator door. He felt the small hairs at the base of his neck rise when he heard the sound of soft footsteps behind him.

"Are you hungry?" A feminine voice asked. "I have lunch meat in the drawer."

As he turned around, the dim light from the hallway revealed JJ's petite form, clad in colorful flannel pajamas and a pair of cashmere socks. She looked tired, but she had a slight smile on her lips.

JJ tied her hair up into a sloppy bun and gave Bill a subtle eye roaming. Maybe it was the lack of rest and the amount of sugar she'd had for dessert, but he made a white tee shirt and pajama pants look better than good.

"Milk?" He offered, setting the half gallon of milk and his half filled glass on the counter.

"Sure." JJ walked to him, picked up another clean glass from the rack. "Can't sleep?"

Their fingers brushed as she handed him her glass. JJ's stomach jumped, and for the longest moment, refused to settle. They were both completely still, until Bill placed the empty glass on the counter with one hand.

This isn't happening, she thought. It was late, and they both weren't thinking clearly. Surely sleep deprivation was wreaking havoc on both of them. But the intensity of his presence was overwhelming, and she was compelled to stare into his eyes. With the lightest of movements, she felt herself leaning toward him.

It was a sight that took his breath away. A slightly rumpled, Jen Jareau offering her lips to him like a long-awaited present. He felt his restraint snap over the sudden elevation of his pulse. It was in that second, he realized, that he'd been cautious long enough.

Their lips met somewhere in the middle. They kissed gently, their mouths barely moving. It was little more than slight pressure and a lingering release, but it was enough to melt their mutual control. Their eyes met, inches apart and their bodies pressed close together. His hands settled on each side of her face and traced roundness of her cheeks. They kissed again, this time adding a bit more emotion in their joining.

It took the remainder of his will power to end their kiss. He did not however, surrender the physical proximity to her body. Bill never wanted to stop touching her, and if they couldn't share anything more passionate, then they could at least share the same space until they were both ready.

After standing together for several minutes, they'd made a decision to kill what was left of the morning watching a movie on the couch. They agreed on one of JJ's Netflix rentals and settled down on the sofa. Huddled under a blanket, JJ felt herself leaning into Bill's warm shoulder. He grinned slightly, and settled his arm around her shoulders. A half hour later, warm and at ease, they began to drift off in front of the television. JJ mustered just enough energy to power down the entertainment system, before she snuggled closer to the handsome man beside her and fell into a dreamless sleep.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If it weren't for the library, my mind would be homeless. Please read and review.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story. I really hate it when I see a new chapter has been added, only to find out its an author note something equally crappy.

Well, I'm trying not to be crappy.

I finished my last story, (thank the maker) so I'm plugging away at the next chapter of Forging Connections. I should have it updated in a few days. As an offering of things to come, I'm composed an unofficial soundtrack to the story. If you're looking for some great songs which have been playing virtually non-stop on my iTunes for the past few days, I invite you to at least sample part the following list.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Forging Connections Playlist (JJ/WL Mix)**

Comes Love (Nothing Can Be Done) performed by Billie Holiday

I'm Alright by Madeleine Peyroux

This Modern Love by Silent Alarm

Trouble by Ray LaMontagne

Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

Save Me a Saturday Night by Neil Diamond

Can I Stay by Ray LaMontagne

Muddy Water performed by Madeleine Peyroux

Hands Down (Acoustic Version) by Dashboard Confessional

Fidelity by Regina Spektor

Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung

Not Too Late by Norah Jones

They Can't Take That Away From Me performed by Billie Holiday

Arms of a Woman by Amos Lee

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

So, listen to some songs, keep reading and pass along praise of a tune or two.

See you around in the 'verse.

littlelights


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: Because I missed my last deadline, it's time for a "Big Damn Update." Thanks for all the great reviews. I really appreciate all the feedback.

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Five**

_Garcia: __We spend hours adventuring and chatting during which time I have his undivided attention and he lavishes me with flattery. When was the last time you had a date go that well?_

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

JJ surfaced from sleep slowly, her eyelids fluttering and body slowly acclimating to its surroundings. Her mind began absorb the sensation of warmth and softness of the blankets beneath her fingers. The light from the window reminded her eyes to open. And the rest of her remembered she'd fallen asleep beside a warm body…

Two seconds later, the rich aroma of coffee drifted through the room.

As comfortable as her couch could be, it still inspired a fair amount of aching muscles upon waking. She'd learned that the hard way during her first year on the job. Any night at home, she'd find herself falling asleep on the couch at eight thirty in the evening.

Stretching wide and trying to ignore the chill of the morning air, JJ attempted to escape from her spot when the sound of a slow masculine voice prevented her from any further thought.

"Mornin."

_Well, Agent Jareau_, she thought, _the case of the missing man was solved pretty quickly_.

She turned stiffly in the direction of the voice, muttered something coherent, and tried to prod her sleepy brain into a functioning state. She looked at the clock on the wall and shook her head. Six hours of sleep. No wonder she was still dragging. Even with the mid-morning light streaming into her fashionably clean living room, JJ had difficulty focusing on anything. Then she happened to through the kitchen doorway. The only image that seemed to carry any impact, was the sight of a handsome man pouring coffee into her two large pink Fiestaware mugs.

And that's when it hit her.

They'd kissed.

And if they'd been in a different situation at another time, well, kissing would have been one of the tamest actions they would have shared. JJ felt her cheeks color slightly and tried to divert her thoughts from the hazy warmth of her memory. The way his hands made her skin tingle. How their bodies seemed to hum when they stood closely together. Feeling slightly uncomfortable with the torrent of thoughts flooding her head, JJ attempted to sit up straight, trying to ignore the painful rush of blood to her head.

A comforting hand touched her shoulder while another produced a much needed cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she said with an embarrassed smile. She was trying to push aside the memories of last night to focus her attention on the present. Her plans were normally so clear and defined, but now…

Bill gave a gentle smile in return, and sat down on the couch beside her. "Cream, caffeine and a little sugar go a long way. 'Though I didn't think you'd wake up so early."

"I'm up whenever I have to be," she said. "I think my body's used to working at all hours. I try to get eight solid hours of sleep before I have to go out in public."

"Well, then I'll take this," Bill reached to capture her coffee, "and you can get your beauty sleep."

"No!" JJ laughed, attempting to keep the cup from spilling over. "No, thank you."

"You sure?" His native drawl exaggerated the playfulness in his voice.

"Yes!"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They had dinner at a nice Italian place in town. The candles and warmly painted walls made for an intimate atmosphere. It was such a drastic change from her normal life, JJ mused, to sit across from someone and take the time to really enjoy their company. They ate and talked, sampled a glass of wine, and nearly ignored the world spinning around them. But they were consciously aware of each other, which caused each of them to balance their conversation with a lack of physical touching.

As they'd discovered last night, attraction and openness lead to involvement. Involvement included touching. And touching could lead to a lot of places. But they'd agreed to try and walk into a relationship carefully.

That agreement cost Bill quite a bit of personal comfort when JJ slipped out of her evening jacket clad in a maroon dress fashioned to make men completely mad. His eyes roamed every line of her body in appreciative intervals. Lord, she was something. Bright, sexy, funny. He found the way she smiled when she touched his hand from across table to be incredibly alluring.

They were walking through the foyer of the restaurant after dinner, when a shrill feminine voice resounded from the restaurant's wine bar.

"JJ! Oh my God! JJ!"

JJ and Bill turned to see an attractive woman skittering from the wine bar with a huge smile on her face. The woman held a cell phone to her ear under a formidable dollop of brunette hair. The Gucci purse and shoe set distinguished her as one of those rare women who dressed well regardless of where she was going. And where ever she was going, she was going to get there fast.

"Text me when you get a chance," the woman instructed over her phone. She snapped the contraption closed and embraced JJ with a firm hug.

"Hey, Amy." JJ looked at her date with a slightly shell shocked expression. Amy Tate was one of the few college friends she saw with any frequency. They had a lot in common, but where JJ was straightforward and not terribly outgoing, Amy was the queen of networking. Flamboyant and with an incredible well of energy, Amy had found her talents were perfectly tailored for a life in public relations. The last time they'd met for a night out had been before Christmas.

"JJ, darling. How are you?" Amy asked. "It's been forever! Let me look at you! Oh, sweetheart. You look stunning!" She looked at Bill and gave him an appreciative smile. "And who are you, handsome?"

"Amy, this is Bill LaMontagne. Bill, Amy Tate. My friend from college."

The introduction was a short one, but it was enough for Amy to wink her approval to JJ and for Bill to flash a grin of slightly baffled amusement.

"Do you two have plans?" Amy asked. She barely paused for some form of acknowledgement. "Because, oh my God. I met the manager of that upscale club four blocks from here. He's offered to put my people up in the VIP section tonight. Why don't you guys come with us?"

As it happened, Amy Tate wasn't a woman who took no for an answer. Especially when it meant her networking pool had grown by two more young professionals.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Amy's choice of a nighttime venue left JJ feeling like an outsider. Sure, she'd gone out to clubs and night spots in college, but even in those instances, she'd always felt out of place. This was a realm which was, in her rational mind, a place where things could become dangerously out of hand in an instant. In those days, JJ had always been the first to rescue an intoxicated girlfriend from a dubious one-night love connection. Those college experiences, coupled with her job at the BAU, had tempered the need for dealing with big crowds outside of work.

For nearly three years, any of her social evenings were in small venues with as few people as possible. Even with the occasional after work drink with Morgan, Reid and Garcia, they'd all chosen rather unspectacular locations. It was a way to feel a world away from work and to make a better transition into the normal portion of their lives.

Being in a crowded place inspired her instincts to be on guard, even during an innocent evening out. Chasing monsters, as Garcia would say, makes you outrageously aware of the evil edge in people. And judging from how Bill stuck to her side as they wove their way through the crowded club toward the VIP area, he was equally mindful of their situation.

Drew Garrison, the club manager, led their group through another set of glass door and to a dimly lit room which separated groups of plush couches with heavy curtains and velvet roped dividers. If the general section of the club was the ultra modern portion of the building, then the VIP area was a complete anthisis. This was the historic area of the brewery Amy had told them about, with its high ceilings and exposed wooden beams. It was a different type of posh, JJ had to admit, with handsome period carvings and a restored bar. The music was a welcome change as well, it didn't sound like the same three songs were drumming through the speakers on a continuous loop.

"I'm sending Cosette over to take care of you," Drew said as he unlatched the velvet divider of an empty area. "If you need anything, let her know."

Amy beamed her appreciation through a stunning smile. "This is awesome, Drew. I'll definitely let the RK Group know about this place. It's fantastic."

"Only the best for you, Amy," Drew grinned. His mission was accomplished. Having Amy Tate's seal of approval could generate a lot of corporate business. "But I have to go. I have to make a few rounds, but I'll try to see you later." Drew nodded his goodbyes, and walked away into the general club interior.

"Isn't this place great?" Amy asked, as she tossed her coat onto convenient holder and flopped down gracefully onto one of the smaller loveseats. "I've been dying to come here for two months. I was so busy working on that PR campaign for Sprint Mobile I couldn't make the opening."

JJ unbuttoned her jacket when Bill touched her hand and helped her out of the garment. "Thanks," she said gratefully, and found her body temperature rising a bit when his mouth quirked that familiar half-grin. Focusing on a renewed stream of chatter from Amy, JJ took a seat on an adjacent sofa to join in the conversation.

The waitress, a pretty blonde college student named Cosette, took their first drink order quickly, leaving Amy to fire off a few quick text messages to the rest of her group. Bill sat next to JJ, and subtly stroked the inside of her elbow before focusing the same attention on the underside of her forearm. It was an incredibly small caress, but JJ found it both a supportive gesture and an affectionate movement at the same time. She tried to focus on Amy's story, but more of her attention was unconsciously being focused on the slow and methodical movements exciting the nerves up and down her arm.

"Oh my God!" Amy exclaimed under her breath. JJ's mind snapped to attention. "That's John Terrance, the vice-president of operations for Sundance Communications."

Amy didn't even need to point. JJ was able to follow her friend's line of sight to a striking man in his late thirties drinking bourbon with a group of his co-workers at the bar. Anticipating her friends need for positive reinforcement, but being mindful of her company, she created a response appropriate for the moment. "Friend of yours?"

"We've met, for conferences and such. Give him ten minutes and he'll be over. He circulates like a smut novel."

JJ didn't have time to examine her friend's love interest for more than a few seconds, when Amy's friends arrived in a fierce barrage of high heels, short skirts and designer suits. There were sixteen men and women who knew Amy either personally or professionally. JJ had met only two of them before; Ginger the jewelry model and a finance attorney named Sophie. After introductions, Bill excused himself with a slightly apologetic look.

Many of the newcomers were friendly, but focused on the activities of a memorable night out on the town. Halfway through their second round of shots, John Terrance approached the roped enclosure flaked by several of his associates. Amy coolly and cheerfully greeted each man and welcomed them into their area for a drink.

In the three minutes since Bill had left, the once comfortable alcove was flooded with people. JJ half listened to Ginger's prop list rundown from her last photo shoot, when the woman abruptly ended the conversation in search of a waitress. JJ wasn't alone for more than a minute when she met an up-and-coming hair stylist named Darcy. The two of them were discussing a new hair care product line when JJ turned into an imposing chest and an immaculate tie and suit set.

"Hi," said the owner of the suit. "I'm Pete Stowe. Amy said I should meet the most beautiful woman in the room." He nodded a greeting to Darcy and shook hands with JJ.

He was cute, JJ noted. Tall, blonde and handsome. The type of guy who won championships for his high school tennis team and maybe led the debate squad. A year ago she might have been interested, but her life had changed.

"That's very sweet for you to say that," she began. "But I'm here with …"

"Amy is pretty persistent. She told me her friend JJ from college is a light drinker, a former soccer player and is the only woman who passed up a PR desk for a government job."

He just had to mention the word 'job'. JJ had a rather good day not dwelling on the stresses of her career. Pete Stowe, the media executive, could have expounded a better line, but JJ was saved from a response by a musical voice.

"Pete! How are you?" Ginger squealed with barely restrained glee. "Why didn't you call me when I was in New York?"

Skillfully extracting herself from the conservation bubble, JJ stepped away and attempted to blend in with a larger group of people mingling near the middle of the room. Between the cheerful conversations, Jen observed the dynamics playing out. Three of the Sundance Communications executives were blatantly perusing the available females, apprising each woman and adjusting their calculations to make the best possible impression.

The structure between her work mode and her personal observation was breaking down. But just when the subtle walls of her mental distance were setting in, a familiar presence filled the space behind her.

"You alright?" A warm hand pressed and lingered on the small of her back. The connection made her relax a little. It had been a long time since she had allowed a man to touch her in such a simple and meaningful way. Releasing a long breath and a smile, JJ leaned toward the voice, feeling a mix of attraction and reassurance flood her bloodstream. The hand rubbed her back reassuringly and then glided across her body to settle solidly around her side.

"I'm glad you're back," JJ said. "I've been visually groped by three different guys since you left."

Bill stroked small circles on her waist. He was not a jealous or possessive man, but an instinct had nudged him to find his date and keep the vultures at bay. He wanted to be by her side, and he rationalized that his gestures were providing support, but another part of him relished the physical contact with the woman beside him.

Keeping his voice neutral and low enough for only JJ to hear, Bill said "When you go to a meat market, darlin', it's what you've got to expect." He kissed her gently on the cheek and on the temple. The smell of her hair and perfume was heady, and it made him want everyone to disappear.

From his perspective, a string of events had led him and JJ to meet, and when they were together, smaller threads were shuttling back and forth between them, weaving intricate knot work which was growing stronger. In his experience, threads and knots never tore easily.

They stood together for a time, saying very little and refusing another round of drinks. They communicated in subtle touches, thumb brushes over clasped hands and their heads resting together. Amy and John Terrance invited them to sit and talk for a bit, and thankfully the night progressed nicely from there.

It was nearly 3 a.m. when JJ unlocked the front door and abandoned her shoes. The lack of sleep the previous night was gnawing at her, but she gave Bill a sound goodnight kiss and managed to clean up and brush her teeth before collapsing into bed. And for the first time in a long time, she closed her eyes and didn't see dogs, blood, or monsters.

She dreamed about sunshine, coffee and kissing a man with blue eyes.

And that made the day nearly perfect.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If it weren't for the library, my mind would be homeless. Please read and review.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If you can spare a moment, I'd really appreciate your help. I was watching the first season of CM on DVD last week, and there's a totally different song played at the end of episode 1x6 LDSK. I know the TV version of the show supplied _Tears and Rain_ by James Blunt (which I own, so I know the song), but I'm really searching for this DVD track.

Some of the words are:

"...I have no regrets, I've done my best with the tools I've been given. The hardest thing in the world to believe is that where we are is right where we belong."

Does anyone have the answer, an idea or any suggestions? I'd really appreciate your help.

Thanks,

littlelights


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: I really appreciate all the feedback for the last few chapters! I swear, it's like crack. I actually had more progress on chapter seven, mainly because my beta readers issued a smut related writing challenge. It was something to keep my mind off the ending of the new 'Pirates' movie. I was more than a little agitated over the ending. I didn't actually get to the smut when the challenge ended, but it was the effort that matters.

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Six**

_Morgan: What we do for a living, it takes up all our time. And a relationship's hard enough even in the same city._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

She was deeply in love with Bill LaMontagne's French toast. And to make matters even more complicated, falling in love with Bill LaMontagne was running a close step behind.

They were making breakfast Wednesday morning, joking and reading the newspaper. Actually, Bill was attempting to read the paper, but he kept commenting on JJ's cooking technique.

"Try flipping it the other way," he said, loosing his spot on the page for the fourth time. "You'll have more room in the pan."

JJ wasn't impressed with his reasoning. "It doesn't have to be so scientific. Besides, I don't think I could fit anymore in here anyway." She eyed the four half-slices of French toast, hoping the pan would live up to its high William Sonoma standards.

Bill didn't want to vocalize it, but he had more cooking experience than JJ probably ever had. So he decided to tread carefully. "While you were playing soccer, did your mama pull you aside and show you around a kitchen?"

"My mom was a liberated woman. I learned to cook in college." JJ paused. "So, how'd you learn?"

"Neighbor lady," Bill said easily, leaving his newspaper on the table and volunteering to remove plates, cups and utensils from the drawers and cupboards. "I stayed with her after school. My daddy said I could stay at the house on my own when I could cook and not burn the place down."

"How long did you have to stay with…" JJ looked up from her pan questioningly.

"Mrs. Wells." Bill supplied.

"How long did you have to stay after school with Mrs. Wells?"

"Until I was twelve. The deal I made with my dad was the greatest motivator. He called it my quest for self-sufficiency." He chuckled softly. A year ago, it would have been difficult to remember that handshake and promise without mourning his father. Now that his grief was less pressing, it was like revising an irreplaceable old friend.

JJ smiled, picturing him as a quiet, skinny kid wearing an old woman's spare apron and learning how to make French toast. "Well, these are ready." She flipped the French toast over in the pan for the final time. "Do we have another clean fork?"

Bill reached deeper into the silverware drawer when his fingers brushed an unfamiliar object. Curious, he extracted the item from its remote spot and eyed the piece carefully. "Umm, you use these often?"

JJ looked up from the serving platter and felt her face blush deeply and her jaw slack.

Bill flashed an amused smirk and offered a pair of pink faux fur handcuffs to his hostess. "Darlin', I'm flattered, but I'm not interested I this sort of thing."

To her credit, JJ managed to deliver a coherent explanation. It was a little too calculated and by-the-book for Bill's taste, but he cut her narrative with a swift kiss. Life with Jen Jareau, he was discovering, was anything but ordinary. And that suited him just fine.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They visited the Smithsonian, bypassing the large tours and school groups to set their own pace around the exhibits. They saw the spirit of St. Louis, Dr. Horatio Nelson Jackson's transamerican automobile, and the Hope Diamond. It was exciting to take a singular experience and combine it with the thrill of a new romance. They walked the Washington Mall and spent the better part of an hour sunning themselves on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Each day, they planned a series of day trips, heading any direction which suited them and returning for dinner at the apartment each evening. They were about to stop for lunch when in a sudden burst of inspiration, they drove to a small fishing wharf another twenty minutes away. They ate at a local fish restaurant and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the boardwalk.

When they needed a break from this routine, JJ's apartment provided a place to read the newspaper, watch movies and take long naps on the couch. Thursday morning JJ woke up early for a run through the neighborhood. An hour later, she opened the door to find her guest creating what smelled like two café mochas.

"How was your run?" Bill asked, kissing JJ on the cheek and attempting to keep his appreciative once-over in check.

"Pretty good," she replied. "I had the road to myself for most of it. I only had to dodge three old men with lawn mowers."

"That's dangerous work. You get hazard pay for that?" Bill quipped.

JJ flashed him a smile and rolled her eyes a little. "I wish."

"Cream?" He asked, holding up a bottle of Readi-whip.

"Yes, please." If she had a weakness, it was for anything mirroring the consistency of cool-whip or chocolate.

When she looked back at that moment later, JJ couldn't have imagined acting so goofy since she was in high school. When he had finished topping off each mocha, JJ swiped the Reddi-whip can from his hands and deposited a portion onto a large serving spoon. She helped herself to a spoonful, and gave Bill a not-so-apologetic shrug when she had another.

"You could just put the nozzle in your mouth and save the spoon," he jested, leaning against the counter casually and enjoying the sight of her looking so at ease. "That's what a guy would do."

She gave him an incredulous look. "That is so unsanitary." She didn't mention that it was totally embarrassing to help herself to a fair-game can of whipped cream while in the presence of a man. There were too many connotations, and she really didn't want to go there.

He was genuinely amused with her poise and response. JJ always seemed to give off an air of control. She was funny, but rarely silly. It was interesting to see her switch between that control and the fun which was inherent in her personality. Then it hit him, she was concerned with the overtone of her actions.

Holding his hands up in mock fashion, he said, "I won't look. Look, I'm turning around so you can have your whipped cream without an audience."

"You don't have to turn around," she said, talking to his back. "I really don't want any more."

A few seconds passed, but when he heard the tell-tale sound of the whipped cream can distributing its contents, Bill smiled. JJ wasn't quite as straight laced as she was perceived to be, given the space and freedom to loosen up. Then he felt the press of a warm body and an arm encircle him from behind. He turned his head, expecting a kiss from a not-to embarrassed blonde. Then he saw a large spoon a whip cream moving in the direction of his mouth. He paused, but obediently accepted it.

"I still think it's unsanitary," JJ said from behind him. She kissed him on the back of the neck and wiggled the can in front of him enticingly. "Want some more?"

"Sure," Bill said, and swung around to kiss her deeply.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They made out on the couch like teenagers; hot, heavy but with a fair amount prudence. Afterward, they laid together for awhile, saying little and kissing when they needed to. Their dynamic had crossed over from friendly and flirtatious to something deeper and more palatable. It inspired a certain amount of thought from each of them.

Bill spoke first. He brought her chin up from his chest and kissed her sweetly. When he was certain he had her full attention, his words were simple and straightforward. "When's your next vacation?"

JJ blinked, her brows furled in thought. "Memorial Day weekend, I think. I dunno. I'd have to have it approved first. I have three more weeks of leave left."

He weighed his words carefully. "Spend it in New Orleans with me."

She wanted to say yes so badly, but she hedged instead. "That's a little less than a month from now."

"A long weekend. Saturday through Tuesday." He reasoned.

"It will depend on our case load and if my unit has to travel." She read the understanding in his eyes as he nodded. "I'll ask for the time off, but I can't guarantee anything."

The comment made her feel exceptionally lame. It was a half-hearted attempt at compromise, and it wasn't making either of them happy. She looked at him, but he was staring into the distance, a wall going up in his eyes. She knew that look; it was a shield against rejection. Her mind made up, JJ shifted and draped herself on top of him and kissed him gently.

"I'll try to be there." She said softly. "I want to be there."

His eyes softened, then broke. "I'll pick you up from the airport Friday night." He grasped her back and neck and captured her lips again.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They kissed goodbye at the airport Saturday morning, having spent the previous night chastely asleep together on the couch. She didn't want him to leave and he didn't want to go, but their week together had come to an end. Bill held JJ's hands and kissed each one in turn before holding her close. They kissed, soft and sweetly, his hands comforting her face and neck.

"Four weeks," Bill said, the dedication etched clearly in his features.

"Four weeks," JJ repeated. "If not then, we'll make something work."

It scared her, watching him leave and knowing a large portion of her heart was already wrapped around his own. She waved when he turned around one last time, and felt herself breathe deeply when he disappeared from sight. "Four weeks," she whispered aloud, "Please let it be just four weeks."

Bill called when he arrived back in New Orleans, and they spoke briefly before going to bed. JJ spent the rest of the weekend tidying her apartment and grocery shopping. She wasn't in the best of moods when she walked through the bullpen Monday morning, but she was more relaxed than she could remember feeling in a long time. Garcia toddled to the media liaison's office briefly, and left with two four-packs of Starbucks canned espresso.

After taking lunch with Reid and Morgan, JJ greeted Gideon on the walkway.

"Nice flowers." The older man said. His focus was directed at the file folder in his hands. A small police department in Alberta Canada had asked for consultation regarding a recent unsolved murder.

"I'm sorry?" JJ said her face went blank for a moment in confusion.

Gideon glanced up from the report and nodded in the direction of her office. "Delivery guy dropped them off about an hour ago."

She thanked him, and felt her heart quicken in anticipation. She quickly crossed the distance to her office and felt a smile emerge on her face. A dozen peach roses and purple irises sat regally in a tall vase on her desk. JJ took a moment to trace several of the fragrant flowers with her fingertips before she opened the card attached to the arrangement. The message seemed to her to be more real once it was typed out. _Four weeks. B_.

For the rest of the day, it was impossible to wipe the smile from her face.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If it weren't for the library, my mind would be homeless. Please read and review.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: It's time for another "Big Damn Update." Thanks for all the kind comments. Glad to know I'm not the only one who appreciates a good plotline and character development. BTW: What is up with all the Reid slash fic? Dude, WTF!

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Seven**

_Morgan: Go get 'em, lover._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It was an ominous beginning.

One flight delay stretched into two delays. Once the plane actually boarded, another delay was announced, and it turned into Jen Jareau's plane ride from hell. It was not the way her weekend was supposed to begin, but sometimes Mother Nature was a bitch. She had plans, damn it. And they included, because she was more than willing to admit it now, spending time with her boyfriend.

God, that made her sound like such a girl.

Memorial Day weekend was supposed to be their time, and it was eerie how that statement was a declaration as opposed to a justification.

The roses which had been delivered to her office at the BAU had accumulated several levels of speculation. But JJ went about her way heedless of the raised eyebrows and good natured questions. She accomplished her tasks with her usual poise and efficiency, but she'd been carrying the vague recognition that her team was subtly profiling her activities.

That Friday morning dictated exactly what she hoped it would be; a relaxed paperwork day. Between filing and case reports, the press releases and media contact memos, and the occasional phone call, JJ breathed a small prayer to the gods for not being foisted with a new case. The four weeks since she and Bill had said goodbye at the airport had been a time set her priorities and figure out what she wanted out of her life. That's what she rationalized, anyway. She missed him immensely, and she wasn't going to admit that to anyone. The one gift she'd been during her time alone was the chance to look at her life through a different perspective, and then make plans for the future.

And those plans included a long, non-family, holiday weekend alone with the man with whom she'd fallen in love. Yes, she was falling in love. Agent Jennifer "JJ" 'nail-your-balls-to-the-desk-with-the-power-of-the-press' Jareau had stepped off that cliff and fell. Willing. Even if she didn't realize it until after he left. In love. Love. She was in love. That phrase was something she was still trying to wrap her head around.

Hotch had approved her extra days off with little more than a raised eyebrow and a few well-chosen safety advisements. She thanked him sincerely, and knew she could never hide her reasons for going on vacation so quickly after the last one. Especially when there was another vase of roses and irises displayed on her desk. She walked out of his office, and by the look in his eyes she'd half expected him to say 'Enjoy your weekend with Bill,' or something along those lines.

But where her supervisor had been subtle in his interpretations of her plans, Morgan, she found, was more direct.

JJ was organizing a particularly tedious group of files when her co-worker knocked on the door of her office late that afternoon.

"Hey," Morgan said with a wide smile. "What's going on?"

"I'm just finishing up this paperwork," JJ said breezily. "Then I'm getting out of here."

"Enquiring minds want to know, girl. Does Mr. Memorial Day have a name?"

The humor in his voice prodded a smile on JJ's face. A thin laugh escaped her lips, but she re-filed the last of her paperwork and simply said, "I don't have a statement prepared at this time."

"Taking the official line. Wow. That's harsh," Morgan said with a mock tone. "You've had plenty of time to prepare something. JJ, we know how you operate. Just throw out a name and put everyone's mind at ease."

Just then, a knock sounded from the door. JJ and Morgan looked up and found a very perky Penelope Garcia racing into her office. "Hey! It's nearly time for you to go!" The tech goddess said. "Morgan, if you can't help this girl with her work, then at least sit down and get out of her way. This is woman with big plans."

"Big plans? Oh, really?" Morgan picked up a group of files and handed them to JJ.

"Pen," JJ groaned with some hesitation and stacked the files neatly on her cabinet.

Garcia whizzed around the office, sorting the last few file folders and cleaning up the desk area. "Your flight is leaving in approximately three hours. You need to have your cute little behind on its way to the airport in about three minutes."

"Garcia," Morgan interjected. "How much do you know about all this?"

"There is nothing you can say, honey muffin, which will profile it out of me," Garcia said in a definitive tone. She grabbed JJ's purse from the side desk drawer and handed it to the media liaison.

Garcia walked JJ to the elevators and away from the prying eyes and ears of the other BAU employees. On the way, JJ smiled and waved to Emily and Reid, nodded to Gideon in his office and could have swore she saw Hotch crack a quick half smile in her direction.

"Have a good time. Don't forget to bring me back a present. Oh, by the way," Garcia said when they'd exited the bullpen and were at the elevator doors. "Stay away from voodoo women named 'Madam' anything. You'll probably have better luck with a fortune teller named 'Joe the Amazing.'"

The elevator chimed and opened, inspiring Garcia to exuberantly push JJ through the doors and easily slap the ground level button. "And remember, if you really want it, just go with it! Use that furry thing I gave you for Christmas!" She held her hand in front of her with a cheeky little wave. "Have fun, bye-bye."

That had been seven hours and seemingly a lifetime ago. Thankfully, the plane had landed without much more of a delay, but the airline had announced all the luggage from the flight had been mistakenly directed to another city. Another line had ensued, this time for baggage claim tickets and contact information. JJ glanced at her watch and rubbed her forehead. It was nearly one in the morning, and she was weary beyond words. All she wanted was a warm shower and chance to change into something else.

_Unnamed special agent travels to decimated city in efforts to snuggle and possibly seduce her recently acquired boyfriend. More after this commercial break. _

God, that was one pathetic thought.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

When JJ stepped pass the arrival barrier with only her carry on and a hopeful expression, Bill LaMontagne greeted her in the manner best dictated by her nature; a slow approach to allow her time to acclimate to the surroundings, steady eye contact to read her expression, a small kiss on the forehead to show he understood, and a welcome stance for her to walk willingly into. But once she was there in his arms, her face in his neck and her body wrapped tightly with his, Bill knew she was ready to relax again.

They kissed briefly several times before JJ appraised her appearance before looking back up at him again.

"I look terrible," she said wearily. "And I probably don't smell all that great either. We were on that plane for hours and the temperature kept bouncing between hell and Antarctica."

"You can clean up when we get to my place," He assured her. "I reckon a good ten hours of sleep will do us both some good."

"How long were you waiting?"

Knowing anything less than the truth would distress her, Bill took her bag and wrapped his arm around her waist. "About three hours. But we were lucky. Half the flights have been delayed longer."

They drove to his apartment, a handsome second floor unit above an old coffee market near the French Quarter. What the place lacked in period features it more than compensated with modern amenities. High ceilings, new paint, laminate flooring. A friend had shown him the place after the city had been cleared for resettlement, Bill explained. His apartment complex on the east side of the city had been unsalvageable and for five months he lived in a trailer with another police officer and two relief workers. So when presented with a chance to live on his own again, Bill found this apartment suited his needs perfectly. It was convenient, he reasoned, to leave his car parked in the street and walk 15 minutes to work.

The almost reverent way he talked about that period of his life led JJ to conclude that this place gave Bill a place to remember the past without distracting his thoughts away from the future. It was spartan, even for a bachelor, with only essential pieces in each room. The only personal touches were sparse but immensely important; a record album signed by saxophonist Ira Sullivan, the sizeable collection of live concert and performance CDs, an old police parish office desk, and several battered paperbacks which included titles such as _The Old Man and the Sea_, _Kon-Tiki_, and _The Life of Pi_.

Playing the congenial host, Bill provided two large towels from the laundry closet and turned on the bathroom shower. He opened his dresser drawers, locating a shirt and gym shorts for her to wear to sleep. It wasn't much, he said, but it was everything he could give her for the hellish night she'd been through. JJ kissed him gratefully, and stepped into the welcoming warmth of the shower spray. She washed her hair, thanking whatever household deity for the bliss begotten by a bottle of _Head & Shoulders_.

She found Bill in the kitchen, making an omelet on the small stove. A dilapidated kitchen towel was strung though a belt loop of his kakis, and the half open window allowed a welcome breath of air to circulate through the room. He looked up from the frying pan.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." she smirked faintly. "Do you have a washing machine? There's a gross factor involved with wearing these clothes again."

"Behind the folding doors there," he gestured with his head. "Soap and stuff's to the side. You sure you don't need a dry cleaner?"

"Rules of the road," JJ said as she opened the doors and loaded the washing machine. "Buy washable whenever possible. I've had to wash my shirts in motel sinks across the country. I'm used to getting by without depending on a cleaner by now." Sleep pulled heavy on her eyelids, but she fought back. This was part of her life, staying awake for countless hours and operating on the last strains of adrenaline. She just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, you ok?" A voice behind her asked.

It startled her back to the present. JJ blinked once. Twice. The breath caught in her throat for a minute. Somehow she fell asleep standing up in front of the washing machine, her boyfriend beside her was holding a plate with half an omelet and a worried expression on his stubbled face.

Shaking herself slightly, JJ gave him an apologetic smile and rubbed her arms. "I'm just tired."

"You need to eat something." Bill offered her the plate and guided her back to the kitchen for a glass of milk. "You can't sleep on an empty stomach."

Bringing the fork to her mouth took a few seconds to think about, but after the first bite, JJ's brain kicked into action. Her tastebuds responded, and almost unconsciously, she spoke aloud "Veggie omelet. My favorite."

Bill nodded, noting how the subdued comment was an extension of fatigue. He bit into his own portion and said, "Yeah. Vegetarian omelets, I never thought I'd get used to eating 'em."

They smiled at each other, and dropped into silence. JJ watched him above the rim of her glass, wondering how rude it would be to forget the niceties, and cram the food in her mouth and fall asleep on her feet. Through sheer force of will, she finished her omelet, placed her dishes in the sink and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

He placed his own dish down, and rubbed the sides of her arms comfortingly. "Go lay down and sleep, sweetheart," he invited. "I'll clean this up."

Yawning her acknowledgement, JJ walked into the bedroom on autopilot, and pulled the bedcovers back unabashedly before she settled into bed. She must have dozed off, because she could hear the bathroom door open and opened her eyes to see Bill loading his arms with two blankets from his closet. He was walking out of the room, when JJ sleepily sat up and asked, "Bill, where are you going?"

"I'm taking the couch tonight." He half-whispered, "Go back to sleep," and kissed her on the forehead.

JJ was not in the mood to be placated. "Come to bed," She invited, half asleep and fading fast with each passing moment. When he didn't respond, she continued "I didn't spend eight hours in hell for you to sleep on the couch. Come to bed and sleep."

He obeyed, half-tossed the blankets onto the floor and slipped into the vacant space next to her. It seemed almost normal, both of them in tee shirt and shorts and gratefully reveling in the simple bliss of falling asleep in each others arms. His arm slid around her middle, his chin found a place to rest a few inches from her neck. She felt him kiss the back of her neck and shoulder blade before sleep finally caught up with her.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Please feed the monkey! Send in a review!

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: It's time for another "Big Damn Update." Thanks for all the kind comments. Glad to know I'm not the only one who appreciates a good plotline and character development. BTW: What is up with all the Reid slash fic? Dude, WTF!

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Eight**

_JJ: Wow. That was …bold._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"So, what do you think she's doing?"

Penelope Garcia looked up from the foamy surface of her latte mug and smiled. "Reid, does it really matter? She's enjoying the weekend away from here. Miles from the office and doing normal things on normal person time. If it comforts you, I talked to her on the phone last night."

It was Sunday morning, and since they had the day off, Garcia had invited Spencer Reid, her favorite boy-genius, to spend the morning with her at a quiet coffee shop they both frequented. With no family and equally open-ended holiday plans, the two of them met for a companionable snack and cup of coffee. Reid had passed on the invitation to their co-worker Derek Morgan, but his most recent text message estimated at least another few minutes before he could join them.

This morning, Reid was somewhat subdued but determined. There was more than one way to phrase a question especially when Penelope Garcia was concerned. Unfortunately, the tech goddess had an uncanny ability to see right through him at any given moment. Reid took a conservative sip of his coffee and changed tactics. "Did she elaborate or …"

Garcia rolled her eyes dramatically. "She slept in. Her friend made lunch. She ironed her clothes. She and her friend walked around. They went shopping then had a drink at some sort of bar for a bit. When she called me, they had just finished dinner and were going to spend the rest of the night listening to music at home. Everything considered she's having a wonderful time."

Reid still didn't look convinced.

"She sounded happy," Garcia reiterated. "JJ's where she wants to be right now. I'm happy for her, and you should be too."

They silently sipped their coffee for a minute. Garcia watched as Reid replayed her descriptions in his head, the little green-eyed imp of jealousy apparent in his thoughts. For his abundance of brains, he was still only human. He was a living, breathing guy who was slightly smitten with JJ Jareau.

Garcia knew JJ considered Spencer to have an open ended role within their unlikely BAU family. JJ was friendly, supportive and immensely protective of him. And she'd confided in Penelope that it had pained her beyond words when Tobias Henkle had inflicted his own brand of torture upon the young man.

That whole situation continued to resurrect doubts for each member of her team.

Shaking herself from that thought trail, Penelope took a bite of her cranberry muffin. Spencer was still absorbed in his musings, probably looking for patterns and behavioral anomalies which would lead him to another answer. An answer, she distinctly suspected, which could somehow include him. Garcia knew the whole story, and she was loathe to say it to his face, but Reid had about the same chance of hooking up with JJ as Pee-Wee Herman did winning the Harlequin Romance Writer of the Year award. Enough was enough already. Maybe she could give him an e-harmony account for his birthday.

The tinkling front door bell caused them both to look up. A grinning Derek Morgan scanned the shop for his partners. Garcia's face broke out into a 1,000 watt smile and lightly tapping Reid on the arm, she waved Morgan over. He gestured to the counter, in a familiar sign for 'more coffee'. Reid and Garcia nodded and smiled. In moments like this, it was pretty awesome to hang out together outside work.

If Reid had to fight his own petty jealousy over JJ, then Garcia had to put a cap on her own over Derek Morgan. Could the man get any cuter? Their personal brand of flirting began as a way to break the tension and smile even through a disturbing case. But she'd always liked him. Wanted to like him more. But she stopped herself from getting too carried away. He was her friend and co-worker. They probably knew more about each other than they'd ever care to admit, and sometimes his shameless dating habits drove miniature needles into her heart. So she'd gone out and had her own fun. She dated, socialized online and even named a Sims 2 character after him. And it was a comfort, that when all the other girls had faded away, it would always boil down to the two of them again; the tech kitten and the charming profiler.

Derek walked over to their table, a large cup of Hawaiian regular in his hand and a full carafe in the other. "Hey you two," Morgan smiled broadly and refilled Reid's coffee cup. "What's going on? Did you just get up or just sit down?"

"Just got up. We went out to the movies last night." Penelope said smoothly, handing Spencer the sugar dispenser. Before Morgan could ask, she continued, "Shrek 3, it's not as funny as the second one."

"It was interesting," Reid added, "the multiple tiers of classic hero archetypes being used in conjunction with the dynamics of characterization and popular culture icons." Reading his friends' expressions, Spencer shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "Parts of it were funny."

Garcia chuckled. "We had a good time. But right now, Reid is concerned about JJ. He doesn't believe she could be having a good time away from us."

Reid crooked his eyebrow again, his displeasure of Garcia offering up their conversation clearly showing in his features. "It's just that we don't know what's really happening. Most of the time she'd tell us more than 'I'm going away for the weekend.'"

Morgan grinned boyishly. "Well, she is going to see a friend, right?" He looked to Garcia for confirmation. "Maybe it's a friend of the up close and personal kind."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "No guesses as to your plans last night."

He looked at her wolfishly before taking another sip of his coffee. "I wasn't the only one thinking about it, mama. But seriously, I should have gone out with you guys last night. I definitely would have had a better time."

Behind his cavalier attitude, Morgan was notoriously tight-lipped about his romantic life. Garcia decided to drop it, because Derek wasn't going to give anything else away easily.

"JJ said her flight was something out of an extended Farley Brothers film. And yesterday was her time to chill out. She probably crashed as soon as we hung up." Penelope popped the rest of the muffin in her mouth somewhat triumphantly. This was so worth extorting JJ for an extra four pack of espresso.

Reid looked somewhat placated. Morgan sipped his coffee thoughtfully. The two men traded glances and looked back at Garcia.

"You forgot one thing, sweetness," Morgan said.

"What's that, handsome?"

Morgan leaned closer to the table, a small sheen of humor apparent in his voice. "It's a brand new day. Anything is possible, especially for a girl on vacation."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

His pillow smelled nice. It was something more than the bargain laundry soap he'd used for the last month. Something faintly flowery and clean. Womanly.

The mid-day light was seeping through the vertical blinds, causing him to burrow his face into the soft material, which was warm against his skin. The pillow sighed, and wiggled closer. Through the fog of sleep, he forced his eyes open and smiled. Out of all the men in New Orleans, at that moment, William LaMontagne Jr. considered himself to be the luckiest of all of them. If he hadn't been so tired from the work week and the subsequent airport fiasco and mini-city tour yesterday, he would have felt inspired to crow about the present boon to his life on the roof while in full view of the public.

In his experience, most people drifted from one relationship to the next and never really seemed to do anything else. They were like the shiftless city structures which lay ruined under watery shoals in the city.

The woman beside him had become the symbol of why he'd been content to be single nearly all his life. Bill instinctively knew what he had been patiently waiting for; hard ground, firm foundation, bedrock. Terra Constantia. Not a missing piece or an over extension of structure.

Something solid, something whole.

A place you could build a home and know that when the winds and rain washed everything away, your structure would be unscathed. That his home, his heart, would still be there.

When he took stock of his possessions, Bill knew he didn't own much, but what he could offer her were considered intangible luxuries within their modern world. Understanding amid the horrors of their professions. Shelter from the brawls and conflicts outside. Reassurance against self-doubt. Stalwart devotion in the face of outright terror. Because he desired all these things, he knew she'd wanted them too.

Bill watched her, unwavering against the pull of sleep still hounding his body. She was cocooned beside him, her blonde hair tied up high on her head, and her eyelids fluttering against her dreams and the encroaching light.

When he stepped back to look at the moment they had met, it frequently amazed him how profound that day had been. A beautiful, highly trained and skilled woman, leading a cavalry of much needed federal agents on a search to catch a serial killer. It had been one of the unlikeliest scenarios he could have anticipated. He'd been so absorbed in his work, in the crime at hand, and the strangling grief of working on his father's case, that he'd acted as the consummate professional, and let police method dictate most of his actions.

Still, he was a man, and any straight male of his species would have to be completely devoid of senses, thought and feelings to think Jennifer Jareau wasn't attractive.

Once they'd begun working together, stray thoughts and observations kept creeping into his mind. The way her compassion helped soften the jagged edges of his memories. How her knowledge had helped in the investigation. The direct and honest manner in which she'd stipulated needs and information.

She had been a partner, a teammate, a sympathetic ear. A friend with a much needed umbrella in a never ending fall of rain. In some child-like explanation, she was an angel. Miraculous entrance and mysterious exit included.

But now she was here, sleeping with him in his bed, her clothes in the washing machine, and a few days of freedom still ahead of them. He was, without a doubt, the luckiest bastard alive.

Bill kissed the back of her neck, nuzzling the rim of her ear and moving down to the side of her throat. Rationally, he didn't want to wake her, but a selfish impulse and desire licked at his blood. _Kiss her, love her, hold her close_. They'd built foundations on the rock they'd found and he knew that when they finally cemented what they had, the rest of the house could be built.

He wanted to start the cementing process immediately.

His lips found a sensitive spot on the opposite side of her neck, and when she sighed and pressed herself closer, his hand rubbed slow circles on her stomach. He felt himself tighten and strain against the fabric of his boxers. Her bottom tunneled into him again, increasing the heat already kindling his body.

JJ drowsily angled her head in his direction. She murmured a soft greeting, and curved to kiss him gently. She was soft and warm, fresh from sleep and free from the guards and armor which usually protected her like second skin. He looked at her, a mixture of passion and reverence in his eyes, and claimed her mouth again.

He was the one with the advantage, her lithe body nesting in front of him, open to each caress of his hand and touch of his fingertips. Her exposed arm wound its way to the back of his shoulder, allowing more of her body accessible to his attentions. He gently burrowed his other arm under her neck while his hand stroked the ridge of her hips. The hem of her tee shirt lifted as he rubbed a path up and down her smooth skin. Their kiss abated as he reached the base of her breast.

Time paused. A moment stretched. Their gazes met.

Her eyes were alive with an enduring combination of heat and trust. Emboldened, his thumb stroked the underside of her breast. Her body pulsed against his. Her eyes reflexively closed. "Bill," she gasped.

With that invitation, his hand became more insistent, weaving a series of sensations through her body. His mouth found a soft spot near the curve of her throat and lavished attention on it. Nearly awake now, JJ managed to maneuver one of his legs more solidly between her own. Each time his caresses hit her, she rocked against him, stimulating the sweet juncture of her body and exciting the hardening evidence of his own passion.

He was surprised by her passiveness. In the times he'd fantasized about the two of them together, he'd always concluded that she'd be the most dominant. The one who blazed the way and took the lead. This was a reversal, and part of him howled in triumph. But before he could even comprehend it, JJ twisted her entire body to meet him face to face. Grasping his jaw with both hands, she kissed him, and using those incredible legs of hers, rolled them both over. She straddled him, grasping for the bottom of his shirt, determined to remove it from his body as quickly as possible.

It was suddenly abundantly clear that she wanted to give as much as she was accepting, and the man in him burst with delight. He sat up, allowing her to swiftly remove his shirt and toss it away from the bed. His hands snuck beneath her top, thumbs kneeding the soft skin of her body and the loose elastic of her waist band. Almost teasingly, she distracted him with another kiss, and pulled back enough to rid herself of her own garment.

His mouth went dry as his blood pressure skyrocketed. He had to drink her in, to see how the trapped light of the room danced on her skin, and dispel a moment of temporary nervousness in her eyes when he'd been caught admiring her for too long. He told her, their eyes never parting, of how she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Words that shouldn't have been a surprise to her, but she needed to hear. Reassurance that he wanted all of her, and not just her body for the moments ahead.

She moaned when his mouth found her breast. Her arms encircled his neck and shoulders, hands grasped his scalp. He paused and captured the other. He took turns lavishing each supple mound with attention, and then kissed his way back to her neck. He wanted to take his time, to savor this experience he'd thought about for months. But his partner had other ideas.

Pushing him down firmly, she kissed her way down his chest, then crawled off him. He flinched from the lack of her body heat. Then his heart accelerated when she divested him of his boxers.

And he'd thought he had been the one with the advantage.

"Sometimes, you're too chivalrous for your own good," she said, straddling his lap again. "We'll go slow next time."

Bill smiled lazily. His Jen had gone from sleepy to bossy in the 20 minutes since she'd woken up. He groaned when she levied against his length, her shorts protecting the damp area rubbing against his skin.

"It's a cultural thing," He drawled as she caressed his chest, loving the playfulness in her eyes and her actions. She looked like a conquering goddess above him. "You all are in such a hurry up north. Some things are worth working your way up to slowly."

"Slowly?" She drew out the syllables and rocked again in a drawn out manner. Her grinding caused him to hiss. JJ stilled for a moment, and with the slowest movements he ever imagined possible, she slid off her shorts. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

"Bet you won't go slowly now," she challenged, the teasing taunt in her tone mirrored her amused attitude.

He bolted upright and with a speed that surprised her, positioned her back atop him. He worked her arousal to his advantage, keeping only the barest fraction of space between them, wanting the cool air of the room to send shivers down her skin. His hands encompassed the sweet line of her face, his thumbs brushed her chin.

"Let's try it this way first," he ran a thumb across her lower lip, feeling himself twitch when she welcomed it into her mouth. After a few heartbeats, he pulled it away and felt her quiver again as his hand traveled down to the juncture of her legs. He kissed her deeply, and swallowed her gasp when his wetted thumb made contact with her center. She moved achingly against him. He made sure their eyes met again.

"I'm sure we'll speed up along the way," He teased in a low tone. His attention drifted down to her chest, lips worshiping her nipples in accompaniment with his hand below. She tried to keep quiet, but his methods proved to be precise and overwhelming. He modified his movements to the words and affirmations she gasped into his hair. When the first quivers of her climax were imminent, she used the pent up frenzy in her body to push him back down onto the mattress and seized her moment.

Without any doubts, calculations or thinking, she shifted, positioning herself above his length. "Christ," he hissed as she maneuvered his member to her entrance, and with the steadying strength of his hands centering her hips, she enveloped him within her channel.

Her head rolled back while her body adjusted to the fullness invading her body. From below her, a gentle but insistent set of hands grasped her waist.

"JJ," Bill said hoarsely. "Jen, baby. Look at me." The tone of his voice caused her body to clench with arousal.

She leaned forward a bit, and brought him back into her line of sight. The muscles of her passage quivered. Slowly, she brought her hands to rest on his upper arms, and began driving herself upon him. She set the rhythm, speeding up significantly once he'd recovered his mind and had adapted to her movements.

She was incredibly expressive. Bill reined his control and watch her ride him, her eyes reflexively closing with each stroke she took. She guided one of his hands to the place where they were joined and showed him what she needed. Inspired, he brought his other arm around her back and coaxed her forward to a different angle, increasing the friction they were creating between them.

Their mouths dueled, nipping and tasting the sweat and salt of their lovemaking. The little mewing noises she was making were driving him crazy. He could feel the renewed shutters of the orgasm rippling through her. She cried out in culmination and he felt his patience break. After several minutes, he found release inside the body of the woman he loved.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The buzzer of the apartment sounded. It was an obnoxious ring which permeated the quiet afternoon. The noise shook Bill from his contented state. JJ was encased in his arms, her head resting against his, one arm splayed over his chest and under his shoulder. His thumbs were tracing gentle movements on her exposed side and back. He didn't want to move, and judging from the look on JJ's equally relaxed face, she certainly wasn't in favor of him leaving either.

The buzzer rang again, more insistently and refusing to be ignored. What if it was an emergency? It was rare but not unusual for someone from another parish station to drop by unannounced asking for help. Bill pressed his lips to the top of JJ's head and further down her brow apologetically before rolling out of bed. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt which had been draped over the foot of the bed. JJ shifted onto her back and watched him dress.

"Be right back," he said, moving back and dipping down to meet her lips in another kiss.

He was down the hallway, when he buzzer rang angrily for the third time. Bill slapped the receiver button in contempt. "Yes?"

"Airline luggage delivery." A male voice resounded from the speaker. "One bag for Jennifer Jareau."

Bill tried not to wince when the delivery guy massacred the pronunciation his girlfriend's last name. "Leave it inside the doorway," he said, pressing the lock release and waiting for the man to depart. He unlocked the door to his apartment and paddled down the stairs barefoot. He retrieved JJ's bag and after securing the front door again, he carried her wayward suitcase toward his room.

The telltale sound of the shower greeted him first. Putting the suitcase down, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. They would have had to get up sometime. Knocking first, he opened the bathroom door and waited for JJ to respond.

"The airline delivered your suitcase." He said.

"That's great."

"You need anything?" He asked, wiping the earlier languidness from his temple and feeling slightly useless.

"Um, a washcloth?" Her response carried over the spray of the water.

Pulling the cupboard doors open, he found what she asked for, and gentlemanly slid it through an open space of the shower curtain. She yanked on his arm, and following the unexpected momentum, he half fell and half stumbled into the shower tub and under the water stream.

When his heart stopped pounding, he wiped the water from his eyes and stared into the slightly embarrassed face of his girlfriend. "Did you think you weren't invited?" JJ asked, placing the washcloth onto a ledge and pulling him down into a kiss.

He laughed and smiled sheepishly at her, his anxiety faded. They kissed heatedly, the warmth of the water reheating his blood. She broke off, giving him a brief eye over and began pulling off his sopping tee. "Didn't I do this already?" The teasing allure in her voice fueled his passion and invited him closer.

"It's worth a repeat performance," he quipped, tossing the shirt outside the tub. Their bodies melded together, lips and tongues beginning another prelude of intimacy. She peeled away the top of his jeans, and he carefully kicked them aside. They began again, hands and lips demanding something from each other. Her hands found his manhood which inspired groans and promises of restitution from his otherwise occupied lips. He backed her against the wall, and felt one of her legs wrap around his hip. Carefully, he lifted her, and was rewarded when she hooked her legs around his waist. In one sure stroke, he plunged inside her, and began to drive swiftly within her welcoming channel. She met him, rocking her hips thrust for thrust and urging him on with the noises she was emitting.

She freed one hand from its grip around his nick and found the overly sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. Her actions and his quickened strokes propelled them both toward release. When she cumulated, JJ cried out huskily, arms clutching desperately around her partner's neck. He followed over the edge a few moments later.

Slowly, they disengaged, gripping each other tightly and allowing their pulses to slow to normal. They were wrapped up in each other so intently; they barely noticed the tepid water raining down on them. Before the water ran cold, they washed up quickly, and fell asleep in the cosseted warmth of the bed in the adjoining room.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Improve your karma. Press the blue button.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: Thanks for all the kind comments. Life being what it is, this update took a bit to finish. Hopefully this story will wrap up in a few more chapters, then we'll move onto the next fic.

A thousand words of thanks to my beta reader, the venomous pixie, for her diligence and insight.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Nine**

_LaMontagne: When I first started as a cop, I worked the Quarter. It's like being in the riot squad every night. Every Sunday I'd get off work around sunrise, I'm ready to pass out, my daddy'd be waiting for me at my house. Make me drive him uptown to Frankie and Johnny's for poorboys. Called it communing with New Orleans._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

New Orleans was a place which existed between several states of being, a curious mix of the past bleeding into the present. The tacky never far from the aged and tarnished, upscale across from the down-and-out, tears amid a jaunty blues march. Everyday, more areas of the city were being rebuilt, chalked full of cheap drywall and dull modern designs. But the French Quarter and all the old places, they were relatively untouched. It was good to know that even when the technology and corporations took over more of the spaces around the city, New Orleans would still beat its lifeblood of the unexpected.

Among the throng of the moderately populated areas up from the garden district, most of the locals wouldn't have paid much attention to a neatly dressed couple, their matching paces spurring them toward a small local drinking establishment up the street. The woman sweeping the front steps of a small guest house dismissed them as another couple on their way to meet a group of friends. The street cop walking his beat found his gaze instantly drawn to the pretty blonde, but then recognized the man who was holding her hand. The two men nodded to each other and didn't look back as they continued on their appointed routes.

Bill led JJ through the narrow and dimly lit interior, his eyes adjusting to the familiar environment of Parasol's Bar. Toward the back, his best friend George O'Dell St. Sebastian sat in a corner booth, drinking a social-sized bourbon. Upon seeing them, Dell raised his glass in a jaunty salute, the mixture of his Creole and freedman's heritage apparent in his dark and handsome features.

For Dell, it was good to be home, sitting in his favorite bar, inhaling the heavy scents of good food and blue-smoked cigars and waiting for his best friend to show up for a drink or two. In his opinion, it was about damn time Billy LaMontagne got out of the parish station and started living his life again.

When they spoke a month ago, Dell learned that his _bon amie_ finally found himself a lady friend. Over the rim of his glass, the man still smiled at the memory of that conversation.

"Someone's finally getting a little sugar in his bowl," Dell had said, chuckling shrewdly. "What's she like?"

"You wouldn't believe me," his friend answered. Billy wasn't one to spill his guts to anyone but his late father and Dell, and even then it had been surprising to hear a rather detailed description of the situation. Beautiful young government gal meets dedicated yet morose local detective. It was definitely something to ponder.

Whistling softly under his breath and lips breaking into a smile, Dell saw how his friend's expression never shifted as he approached the table. There was an easygoing grin on his face, which was something Dell hadn't seen in a very long time. The girlfriend was incredibly pretty. There was something in the way she walked, a hand clasped with Billy's, which gave Dell an impression of indulgence. Given the small venue and almost claustrophobic isle ways, she was willing to let his friend part a path through the crowd. For the moment at least.

When they approached, Dell rose, and held a hand out for his friend to grasp. "I was wondering when you'd come out and join all of us in the real world." They embraced like brothers. Then his eyes wondered to the lady at his side. "But if this divine vision is the reason for staying in your apartment, then I don't blame you."

Bill shook his head, but colored slightly. "Behave, Dell. I've told her a lot of good things about you. I didn't even lie that much."

"No lies necessary. I am exactly as good as I seem. Some of which might be true, and the rest is probably too long of a story to tell," Dell replied. He held out his hand suavely. "Dell St. Sebastian. And you're the reason my friend couldn't return my phone call for the last two days."

"Everyone just calls me JJ," she said, shaking his hand and keeping some sort of control over her impromptu embarrassment. Were the two of them that transparent? But the moment passed, and the three of them slid into the seats at the table.

It was the first time Bill and Dell had met in person for nearly three months. They shared a round of good natured barbs, tossing out new news with a few scraps of the past. In Dell's mind, Bill seemed definitely more relaxed, his smile was quicker and the grief he'd kept so close for the past year seemed to have finally dissipated. As a couple, Bill and JJ were strangely discreet, choosing to keep their still entwined hands under the table and out of view of the public.

"Billy told me how the two of you met," Dell motioned the waitress over for a drink order. "Sounds like something out of those novels my sister likes to read. Of course, I wasn't privy to the full details."

"Details of the case or …?" JJ asked.

"Oh, your case? Murder of any kind isn't new to this city, _cher_. I only know what was in the papers, and what I heard from places like this. But concerning the two of you, Billy's been my sole source of information."

She traded looks with her boyfriend. She was accustomed to orchestrating nearly every aspect of a media circus and relaying information that reflected the worst of human behavior. But she hesitated slightly, unaccustomed to discussing her personal life with anyone, even the people with whom she held in her strictest confidence.

"He scored major points in the way he told me he liked me," JJ said finally. She cocked her head to the side and flashed her boyfriend a teasing smile. "And he was persistent." She told an abridged version of her story, which ended when the waitress delivered brimming glasses to their table.

When he realized JJ was not about to tell him anything further, Dell took control of the conversation. By the end of the first round, Dell was at his most charming, regaling JJ with stories of the past he and Bill had shared in New Orleans.

Dell and Billy had been friends since Mrs. LaMontagne had died, and it had been an unlikely bond from the beginning. Like some families, both the LaMontagnes and the St. Sabastians could trace at least one ancestor back to the original French exiles who'd been kicked out of the conquered British colonies of Canada. Billy's kin had settled down quietly for generations, blending in until the landscape became part of their blood. They were proud people, who had the uncanny ability to raise their children well regardless of what happened in the outside world. But Dell's folks were a blend of Cajuns, freed slaves, creoles, and if he chose to believe the stories, pirates from the ranks of Jean Laffite himself.

The St. Sebastian family had moved into the neighborhood when Dell was five, looking forward to settling into a larger home. As a youngster, Dell really couldn't remember much of that time. Most of it was lost due to the short attention span generally gifted to all boys, but with the exception of two very vivid memories. The first was holding his younger sister, Antonia Marie, when his parents brought her home from the hospital. The second was walking down the neighborhood sidewalk and seeing a sad-looking white boy sitting despondently on the curb. The boy had a green rubber ball next to him, and although he held tightly onto the toy, his eyes were distant and slightly dazed. Curious as to why such a great ball wasn't being used, Dell had managed to coax little Billy LaMontagne into an impromptu streetball session.

Their friendship had been that simple. Dell finally had had something other than a baby sister to play with, and Billy had a friend to help him rebuild his life after his mother's death. Billy needed someone to remind him how to _breathe_ again and Dell needed someone who would say, "I don't know if this is such a good idea …" and then follow him into whatever fool thing he was about to step into anyway.

They had grown up together, bouncing between the St. Sebastian and LaMontagne households with an ease born of indelible friendship. And when they'd grown up and no longer walked side by side down the same streets, the two of them had always managed to meet up at some point.

Parasol's close quarters provided JJ and Bill with an excuse to sneak unobtrusive touches. It was enough to make Dell want to poke a little more fun at his friend, but he quickly changed tactics and produced a series of sidesplitting jokes.

When JJ excused herself for a quick trip to the ladies room, Dell waited a respectful six seconds before issuing a rather verbal summery of his appreciation for the woman who'd vacated the table.

"Whoo. You know you're the luckiest SOB this side of the state, right?" Dell deadpanned. "You really held out on me this time. That is one of the finest women I've met in, well, forever actually."

Bill nodded his head and offered a faint grin in return. "She's something."

"I know three people who would snatch that girl up in a minute for a modeling contract."

"She'd have 'em protecting their privates before they could get a word out."

"And she's beautiful. I thought you were joking about the 'smart, brave, pretty' bit. But I forgot about the LaMontagne policy of modesty."

"Worked for my pop. Works for me." The furrow in his brow became more pronounced for a second. That old look of pain rose quickly, and it alarmed his friend immensely.

Dell responded to Bill's shift in demeanor, the concern apparent in his actions. "Hey, your dad, he'd be proud of you." Dell said directly, looking his friend straight in the eye. "You know that."

"Yeah." Bill said grudgingly.

"He'd want you to put all that behind you now," Dell continued. "I mean, look around you, man! When Katrina came, you evacuated a third of the people out of here, and stayed to see the worst of it. You've helped this city come back into its own again. You solved the case your dad left behind. And now, you've got a beautiful woman who loves you."

The pain in his friend's eyes was replaced with something terribly close to embarrassment. "I don't think things have jumped that far ahead yet," he said, hoping to skirt around the issue.

"Boy, you're a liar. That girl's in love with you, and you're in love with her. It's as plain as day on her face. And it's on yours, when you're not beating yourself up over the past, that is." Dell let the tension of the moment fill to the brim like a full glass of beer before he let it spill. "All these things," he motioned around the room "are yours. You've pushed yourself aside for long enough, Billy LaMontagne. You know about the two sides of life. The bitter and the bad stuff's been doggin' your tail for long enough. You've gotta grab the good things when they happen."

Dell tipped his head toward JJ, who was walking back to the table. "And that, _mon amie_, is a damn fine thing. One of the best things to ever happen to you, I'd guess. The past is where it belongs. She's here with you, right now. Remember that when you're walking home with her tonight."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He was strangely quite while they were walking back to the apartment. JJ squeezed the small of his back a bit, and she was rewarded with a small grin. If he'd been angry or upset, he would have said something. Her gut said something transpired between Bill and Dell while she was away from the table, and part of it was hanging like a cloud over head.

She took a breath, feeling uncomfortable breeching the emotional boundaries which were painful in any relationship. When he was ready, he'd be forthcoming.

But she wasn't nearly as patient as she aspired to be.

"Hey," she said softly. "Are you ok?"

Her question had the desired effect. The arm around her waist held her a little closer as Bill surfaced from his thoughts. He swooped in to place a slow kiss on her temple. "Been thinking about my dad." His slow lowland accent made the words seem all the more profound. "It's been over a year since he died. But since we solved his last case, it's like part of him isn't here anymore."

"Your last link with him is gone," JJ said as she nodded her head in understanding.

He had the sudden sensation of loosing time. Being pulled back months ago when he'd shared the same sense of loss with the woman walking beside him. Only this time, her arms weren't folded across her chest, as if trying to distance herself from the situation. Her arm was curved around his waist, her body warm and relaxed from the nights they'd spent together. It was strange, and for a moment his he forgot where he was. Unconsciously, he spoke. "I still miss him." When the moment faded, he took a deep breath and allowed the present to seep back into his senses.

Bill shook his head with self recrimination. "Sorry, I shouldn't be thinkin' about those things right now."

"Bill, you're allowed to miss your dad. I know how much he meant to you." She was giving her emotions over to him carefully, as to not interrupt his own thoughts. It was like a tide, she thought, both of them taking turns immersing or retreating from the shore. "Loosing the people we love is always hard. Just because we're the ones who see it more often doesn't make us immune to it."

The way she said it, as if walking on a hair-thin sheet of ice, firmed a resolve he barely knew was there. With one step, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. He waited until her eyes ceased fluttering, when he paused and said, "Then you need to know right now. I'm not cavalier with what's happening between us. It's not casual or something to do for fun. Not for me, anyway. If it's something on the side for you-.."

"It's not," she said quickly, her arms wrapping around him tighter, trying to reassure him. "I don't want it to be that way either."

That placated him, but he continued. "I've thought about you more than you'll ever know." He collected himself. "It's not just sex. I'm in love with you. I won't say it in bed because that's normally when you'd hear it."

The shock exposed on her face nearly made him want to drown in the water surrounding the city. "You don't have to say anything. You didn't expect it." His mouth was silenced when her lips collided with his own. It was a fierce exchange, a pull of will and passion between the honesty of what he said and the depth of her own emotions. She tried to tell him in the way her hands engulfed his back and jaw, how much she needed to hear him say all those things. She loved him. She did. But she couldn't say anything yet. Love was too familiar a word and too commonly used.

JJ broke the kiss, and as if sharing a secret, she whispered in his ear. "Show me."

Together they walked quickly through the streets of the city. With each step the need fused between them threatened to boil over. In an uncharacteristic show of public affection, JJ nuzzled her head into the warmth of his neck. Every few minutes, she pressed tiny kisses on the sensitive areas within her reach. His throat, his jaw, his earlobe. Bill wanted to pick her up and sprint the last block home.

They barely made it through the door of his apartment. The lock was shoved securely and they were all over each other, the buildup of the last few hours overflowing. They moved from making out against the wall next to the doorway to any of the solid surfaces on their way through the room. They had each other on the small kitchen table, loosing garments and shoes in a haphazard trail down the hallway. When the first tide had been sated, Bill gathered JJ up in his arms and made a haven for them within the white sheets of his bed.

With her legs around his waist and her arms grasping his back and neck, he embraced the present. He worked a rhythm which was primal and instinctively ancient, which brought both of them to a blinding climax. His chest swelled when she cried out, so wonderfully free of the careful display she held for the public. He kissed her eyes, surprised to find nearly-shed tears around the corners of her eyelids. Recovering, she drug his lips back down to her own.

She hadn't run away in fear, or anger. He felt vindicated. Together, they could make this work, he thought, drifting into another exhausted bout of sleep.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Strawberry Fields Forever. Press the blue button.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: Again, thanks for the feedback. Sorry about the delay, but this was a rough chapter for me. It started off as a good idea and then just became an absolute toil. Hopefully this story will wrap up in a few more chapters, then we'll move onto the next story.

Special thanks again goes to my ever faithful beta reader, Tracy-Face.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Ten**

_LaMontagne__: Where are you from?_

_JJ: Pennsylvania._

_LaMontagne__: I take it the folks are a little rigid about the rules up that way. Well, if it makes you feel better ... we'll play it Pennsylvania style tonight._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

She felt different.

Standing in front of the small bathroom mirror, JJ examined her body in the early morning light. Her skin was smooth, and the bags under her eyes were less pronounced. The laugh lines around the corners of her mouth weren't as distressing as they appeared last week. Rosy cheeks. Wide awake eyes. Experimentally, she smiled, and felt it spread throughout her face.

It was so different. Amazing even. She _owned _that smile.

If she were looking at herself from another person's perspective, she would have taken the grin, blossoming cheeks and lack of clothing and surmised that this was a woman who could do anything. And she had one hell of a love life.

Every little bit of her body hummed with tingles. From the bottom of her feet to the small hairs on her head. It was amazing, empowering and completely unique.

Happy.

That's what it was. She was happy. Honest to God happy.

The little voice in her head said it was chemicals from a powerful combination of sex and the delusion of biological nesting instinct, but she really didn't care. She felt freer, more at ease with the world around her. It was wonderful. And it also was nearly entirely at odds with the more serious aspects of her life.

She wasn't a Sex in the City girl, prone to sitting around stressing over shoes and the perfect bedmate. It was a misconception that she'd fought for the better part of her adult life.

_Look serious if you want to be taken seriously_. It had been primary lesson she learned from her mother. Clothing was important. As the public face of the FBI, JJ believed in the power of dressing for success. It was something she and her supervisor Aaron Hotchner had in common. The rest of their team might have a style all their own, but JJ and Hotch were the distinguishable authority figures. When they met with a local authority for the first time, everyone from the county sheriff to the federal marshals looked to both her and Hotch.

The steely resolve, which had won her so many soccer matches and helped her surpass all examinations, seemed to have grown unconsciously every day. It had squeezed a lot of other emotions out of her life, but she had managed to keep her sense of humor somewhat whole. Friendship, affection, kindness, compassion. These things were still at the core of her being.

But she was different from other women. And it wasn't solely based on her career with the bureau. She hadn't pinned her dreams on marriage and a family. She'd worked too hard, pushed beyond a lot of the traditional goals of what a woman of her generation desired, and pursued her ambitions almost relentlessly. That drive had always been there, reinforced by a motivation to never be found incompetent or wanting.

Even in the quiet moments, when she was alone in her apartment or unwinding from work, JJ let her mind stray to the idea of a solid relationship. It never lasted very long, and was often shut down as a fleeting fancy of time or circumstance. But now, she wasn't about to dismiss sharing her life with someone.

A really great someone.

She hadn't been looking for love because men usually turned out to be a distraction, or worse, gutless ass-biters. Trust was something JJ never surrendered gracefully, and the few times she had handed over a portion of her life to a man she usually walked away with bruised pride and brittle faith.

The rustling sound of slack bed sheets caused her to turn from the sink. JJ watched as the bed's occupant rolled over and shifted back into slumber. He was on the verge of wakefulness, which filled her stomach with a tingling sensation. It was sometimes astounding how many emotions he inspired within her. .

If only he knew how much he'd given her already.

Her mind made up, she moved and stood beside the bed, saying a little prayer to whatever gods were present, and grasped his open hand. If she was going to take a leap like this one, then it was worth her while to take out a little life insurance.

Silently willing his eyes to open, JJ watched as her boyfriend blinked his way back to consciousness. His mouth sloped upward in a sleepy smile, and pulled gently on their clasped hands. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked.

That resolve welled up, but it was tempered by the love flowing through her body. Firmly, she pulled back on his hand. "I need you for a second."

He grinned a little more at that. "You can have me for more than a second. But before that, why don't we sleep for two more hours and have breakfast?"

"Breakfast can wait a little longer." She gave him the 'do not attempt to negotiate' look which usually was reserved for very stubborn sheriff's deputies, and without resistance, Bill followed the pull out of bed. He shivered a little in the cool morning air, and enfolded his arms around JJ's lithe body. As soon as he regained some sort of balance, he began kissing her eyelids with the softest movements.

She wanted to stand there and revel in his soft lips for hours, but that balled up determination wouldn't allow her to tarry much longer. JJ allowed herself one breath to own up her nerves. Confident, she opened her eyes and met his gaze with her own. "I need to tell you something…"

"Honey, let a man wake up first." The slight playfulness in his voice was quickly offset by a string of more kisses. "We're both sleep deprived and running on last night's bourbon. Here's a thought, give me another hour of sleep, and I'll take you out for breakfast."

Switching tactics, she met his kisses and quickly became lost in her own plan. Her actions were first neutral then became more aggressive. His hands dipped around her waist and under the smooth fabric of her cami tank.

This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

Her next move was going to be pivotal. She had to play this smart, or the damage control was going to be massive.

JJ pulled back from the embrace, ensuring enough space between them as to not be interpreted as a rejection. He looked slightly puzzled, searching her eyes for a sign of something which would relay her need to step away.

"I'm being serious. I need to return the favor." JJ continued, pushing aside the confusion and protest forming on his features. "I need to tell you that-…" The wall of tension in her chest was painful, and it threatened to pull down the last barrier between self preservation and her heart. "I love you." The words broke loose, and hung in the air like an imagined figure. "Before you told me yesterday, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to say I love you too."

The immensity of that statement took his breath away. Bill looked completely shocked. "Come 'ere," he said, puling JJ close to his body. "Jen, baby, what I said last night." He fought for words. "I didn't mean to pressure you into something you might not be ready for."

JJ's eyebrow raised slightly, implying a 1,000 meanings with one small calculated movement. "You think I don't know my own mind?"

He shook his head. "Christ, no. But you play your cards close to your chest. I didn't expect anything like this from you so soon."

"Then in that case, you should know I don't say something like that unless I mean it." The ferocity in her voice sounded unduly harsh to her own ears. His hands suddenly went as still as sculpted concrete on her skin. They didn't move, but they were locked in place. She took a deep breath and softened her tone. "And I do mean it, Bill. I'm in love with you, too. Before I leave, I wanted to let you know. This has been the best weekend that I can remember. I don't want this to end, or for us to just to have this and then our separate ways. I don't want to wake up another day without you in my life."

They continued staring at each other, the silence stretching on until it felt like the room was drowning. Then through the open window, the sounds of the outside world intruded. Street traffic, a tourist trolley, a funeral band leading a funeral procession. These things brought about a resurgence of time ticking by.

JJ grimaced slightly, shaking her head with mock disgust and gave an embarrassed titter. "That's the lamest, sappiest thing I've ever said."

"I promise, I won't tell anyone," Bill said with his own amused chuckle, and kissed her on the forehead.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"And then what happened?"

Penelope Garcia adjusted her hands free ear bud, giving this conversation her full attention. Between the gentle hum of the laptop and the off-handed comments of the other coffee shop patrons, it was proving to be a more stimulating environment than she had anticipated, but after what she dealt with at the BAU, this was proving to be a cakewalk.

"We went to Café Du Monde for breakfast. God, Pen. You wouldn't believe the coffee there. It was amazing. By far the best I've ever had." JJ Jareau's voice radiated a relaxed and animated tone. But every few seconds, she seemed to be a bit wistful. That's how Penelope knew her girl was in deep with the New Orleans Police detective.

"Did you get me something?"

"A bag of coffee. Consider our espresso arrangement be officially at an end."

"That's something I need to tell you, sugar. You used up part of your retainer while you were away."

"This is really good stuff, Garcia. You'll love it, trust me. Besides, it was a holiday weekend. Everyone had holiday plans. I doubt anyone spared a second to think about me."

Penelope reluctantly took a hit from her grande Mocha Caramel. "Listen, babe. I'm just going to be honest with you about this, but Morgan is definitely sniffing the airborne love emanating from your direction."

"And that's unusual because?" JJ asked.

"Look, I don't want you to stress out, but our hunk has your number." Her friend replied. "Sealed, Fed Exed and signed. And since he's become aware of your little situation, Reid has pretty much drawn the same conclusion." 

"Oh. Well, crap."

"And this is where our logic skills come into play. If Morgan has cracked that secret JJ code, well, you don't have to be Alan Turing to realize that Gideon and, God forbid, Hotch have managed to break that cipher the moment you left Thursday night."

There was a pause, before Penelope recovered her sense of speech. In her head she could envision JJ nibbling on her front lip thoughtfully. "I know. Its shudder worthy. So don't be surprised if your reception is a scene from a quiz show."

JJ seemed unfazed by her co-worker's revelation. "I can handle the questions. But the profiling, well, I guess it's unavoidable. I don't have to like it, and it's not any of their business, but that's life. Now that everyone seems to have worked out that I have a boyfriend, how long do you think I have before someone sets up a betting pool on who it is?"

"It's already in the works, babe." Garcia said in a precise manner. "So far, details are fuzzy. But when I know more, you'll know more, ok?"

"Thanks," JJ replied, somewhat relieved that someone was on her side. "By the way, how's the caseload piling up?"

"Not as bad as it could be, but have your bag packed and gun ready, because I think our team is going to hit the friendly skies again as early as tomorrow."

"What a great way to come back from vacation," JJ supplied. "See you tomorrow."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Take a little, give a little. Submit a review.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: Trying to wrap this up within the next couple of chapters. Thanks for sticking with me through this story. I appreciate all feedback, all of which makes my monkey very happy.

Special thanks again goes to my ever faithful beta reader, Tracy-Face.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Eleven**

_Lysowsky: In my world, there's no such thing as a control problem. There is controlled and there is dead._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It was early morning when he'd finished his first cup of coffee. The welcome rush of caffeine had fueled him through the first profile consultation. By the time he'd forgotten about his half-empty cup, the cubicles inside the BAU bullpen were half full with agents settling into the towering paperwork stacked in their mailboxes. When the clock read 8:50 a.m., the consult paperwork was completed and ready to be delivered to Saginaw, Michigan.

Stretching his locked muscles, Jason Gideon tucked the envelope with the finished profile into his out going mailbox and reached for his frigid cup of coffee. He grimaced slightly, wondering if he should have taken up Penelope Garcia's suggestion of having a cup-sized hot plate on his desk. But he figured since he'd survived nearly 30 years without another fickle appliance on his desk, he could probably hash his way through another decade without one.

Gideon walked his coffee cup to the communal kitchen sink, his thoughts preoccupied with the semantics of his consult and a new psychology journal article. Snatches of conversation floated from the bullpen, but the voices of his team members caught his attention. Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were sharing a few verbal parries regarding the cultural pronunciation of 'bombastic' when the conversation took an abrupt turn.

"Hey, JJ!" Morgan greeted. "How was your weekend?"

Gideon's gaze switched curiously to the entrance of his younger team member. She was especially striking today. Her smile was long and broad, and her trim bronze-hued suit was an attractive contrast to the long locks of her gold hair. Her poise, which was at her standard perfection, seemed to radiate a sense of grace and bone-deep joy.

Jennifer Jareau, Gideon observed, was happy and she was making sure everyone else could feel it as she walked through the room.

She smiled at Reid and gave Morgan a soft punch on the shoulder. "It was great, thanks."

"What, no details?" Morgan interjected, "JJ, you're going to have to do better than that."

"Not when I'm on the clock, Morgan."

"You've got ten minutes." Her co-worker replied. "Give us a little something so we can settle this betting pool Anderson started." He gestured to the tall red-haired man stuffing papers in a file box. "I've got twenty bucks riding on this thing. You tell us what happened, and I might cut you in for half."

That characteristic eyebrow raised slightly upward, not enough to kill the moment, but enough to get her point across. "I didn't know my reputation was worth a measly ten dollars, Morgan." She began walking away when she threw her last comment over her shoulder. "At least Spence would've offered up half the bet and volunteered to pick up coffee for me for a week."

Morgan chuckled when he looked at Reid, who had seemed to have gone a slight shade of red.

Gideon found the corners of his mouth curving upward in a lopsided smile. He watched as JJ walked to her office, a serene look on her face. For a moment, their eyes met. She flashed him a warm grin and a small nod. Jason returned the gesture, noticing how her cheeks pinked over as she continued her way through the bullpen. It was the blush of a woman who knew she couldn't hide her happiness from anyone, even her supervisor.

So, their JJ was in love.

It filled Gideon's chest with a welcome sort of parental warmth, which was in a way, could be slightly unprofessional. But it would be just as negligent, he reasoned, if he disregarded and cut himself off from some of the cares and concerns of his younger agents. His mentorship, which was as essential to his nature as it was to the well-being of his protégés, made him more of parent than most men would be comfortable with.

The knowledge that JJ was taking time out for herself, experiencing the world beyond the matrix of her professional life, made him quite pleased. He could see it as a victory of finding that difficult balance between who they were on the job and how they lived when their cases were finished.

It was going to be interesting, he mused, to see how it all worked out. And if his guess was correct, a couple of people might be able to see the same subtle effects it would have on her personality when each day came to a close.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**Six Months Later**_

Silence.

It was what she wanted, wasn't it?

To make the buzzing in her ears stop and make the world slow down for her once? The acidic smell of bleach and oxy cleaners assaulted her nose and her eyes again. Brushing aside the fumes, she slammed the empty refrigerator closed and threw the tepid dishrag into the bucket. In a rare display of frustration, poured the contents into the sink.

After abusing the dishrag with a few empty wrings, JJ threw to rag into the sink. She leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling the painful stings of anger, doubt and self-recrimination.

God, she was so tired.

She was tired and her head hurt, and she had too much frustrated energy to sit around her apartment and do nothing. Especially when one of her team members was laying in a hospital immobilized because of her.

She'd always been tough. From the time as a toddler when she tumbled down the back porch steps to the moment she pulled the trigger on her first case, JJ Jareau wasn't a simpering poppet. But everyone had their low moments, their times of weakness. And JJ was scared, because even as she had stepped past these moments, this one wasn't going anywhere. Not for three long days and however long it took a review board to judge her actions.

_I did what I deemed necessary at the time. I will not break down. I will not break. _

Her hands were shaking when they reached for her cell phone. She wasn't thinking when she pressed the send button. In her head, something hideous was going to pounce on her in the dark. Something dark, something with fangs, four long legs and paws. The dial tone rang once. Twice. A third time.

On the fourth ring, a weary masculine voice answered her summons. "Calling this late is a punishable offence down here."

But JJ wasn't thinking anymore. She could scarcely breathe. Her chest expanded against her will, forcing oxygen and the heavy smell of detergent into her nose and lungs. Everything in her body hurt. Her eyes closed as her brain tried to corral every thought into neat compartments.

"JJ?" Bill LaMontagne's voice poured through the headset. "Are you there?"

The first tear poured from the corner of her eye. It fell unnoticed down her cheek. She exhaled, her breath hitching as it left her lips. After a long second, her chest expanded again, keeping her alive even when one person was already dead.

"Jen? What's wrong?" Bill's voice was insistent. In his apartment several states away, he was throwing the blankets on his bed aside, turning unencumbered to the bedside lamp. Switching it on, he felt a wave of overwhelming concern rise up in his chest. He could handle just about anything life could throw at him, but a silent and non-responsive JJ was more than he could bear.

"Baby, I need you to talk to me." He cajoled, praying she was safe and not making a last ditch call at the end of a cereal killer's gun barrel. "Are you ok?"

The line remained quiet on the other side.

He pushed his rising panic aside. JJ was logical. She would do anything to remain composed, especially in the ugliest situation. Bill waited a moment, took a breath himself, and schooled his voice. It was soft, simple and direct. "Where are you? Are you in your apartment?"

The rising tension in her throat gave way to a low sob of pain. When she spoke, it was as if she was being possessed by the ghost of another woman.

"I shot someone today." She took a breath. "I didn't even aim. I just-I just-squeezed the trigger and there was a body on the floor. I put them there. On the ground."

Bill rubbed his face, a flood of emotions washing through his system. Wishing he wasn't so far away, wishing she had called him when she had gotten home. Then she wouldn't have felt so alone.

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday."

He waited an agonizing minute, for her to force another breath from her lungs and to keep her train of thought going. The most important factor of anyone dealing with a crisis of death, hinged on giving them the time and space they needed to tell their story. The only thing he could do for his girl was to shut up and listen, and hope that it would be enough to prevent her from doing something she'd later regret.

"I'm here, sweetheart." Bill clutched his other hand into the mattress. The action grounded him, kept his thoughts from rushing past him too quickly to observe tactically. She was going to tell him. Any second. Any second now.

"I'm not breaking down," Her voice was catching on the syllables of each word. "I'm not broken."

"Nothing about you is, JJ," He replied calmly.

Another two minutes slid by. Bill found his own emotions fraying under the weight of his girlfriend's turmoil. He wasn't too proud to beg, but pleading would only relieve his mind, and not hers.

Another minute.

"I shot someone yesterday."

When her voice escaped her throat, Bill closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks. She wasn't too far gone. She was sticking this thing out. "Where were you when it happened?" He asked.

"In a suburb of Boston. Our unsub was targeting a specific group of people within a college prep school." Her voice was stronger now, falling back to the facts of the case. It was something familiar, and she knew it all practically by heart. "The first two victims were high school seniors, two guys who ran with a small pack of athletes."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"_The victims knew each other," Derek Morgan stated as they ran through the files on each victim at the local police station. "They were involved in the same cross country races and wrestling weight class."_

"_Same after school activities but different class schedules," Their supervisor added. Hotch's sharp eyes flowed through the paperwork in his hands. "Has the school reported any recent activity with group rivalries between these students or ones from another school?"_

_Emily Prentiss shook her head. "Nothing that the school officials are reporting."_

"_They're scared," Gideon noted, his demeanor was focused on the illusionary far-away space, where his mind was free to see all the sides of the situation. "These schools thrive on the patronage of their students and alumni. There's a lot of pressure to keep these killings low key and as innocuous as possible."_

"_These could be attention killings," Reid offered. "To not only bring a sense of justice to the unsub but for everyone else to see how a wrong has been perpetrated. Look at the way the victims were killed. A handgun at mid range, that's about ten feet away. Enough distance give the unsub a sense of control but close enough for each student to see their attacker for a few seconds before they were shot."_

"_Clean shots both times," Hotch added. "Calculated and uncomplicated. Both victims went down in a matter of seconds and could give nothing away as to who shot them."_

"The team worked on a profile," JJ continued. "And they narrowed down their search. A person who was involved with the school in an official or auxiliary function, but the gender was hard to pin down. We interviewed staff, parents, volunteers. The information we were given wasn't adding up at first. Then the assistant principal was shot, and things finally became more concrete."

_Hotch answered his phone. "Garcia, what have you found?"_

"_I found something of an anomaly." Penelope said, her fingers clicking away swiftly on the keyboard. "The school reported a DOA about three months ago."_

"_A DOA?" Hotch asked. "How'd that happen?"_

"_The police report is fuzzy, but the hospital record provided a bit more than the local cop shop. The local ambulance responded to a call regarding a student suicide. Here it is. Josh Lucas. The student was dead on arrival."_

"_What's the unusual part?"_

"_The police were already at the school responding to a gun scare at the school. Two students reported that they saw a gun on one of their classmates. The police record doesn't say who was accused, just that units were dispatched."_

_Hotch's brows furrowed with thought. "So where's the rest of the record?"_

"_It's been amended with information regarding the hospital response to the DOA suicide." Garcia stated. "A little strange that the police were called for a gun scare and then just happen to be around when a student commits suicide."_

"_What about the officers who responded to the gun scare? Where are they?"_

_Garcia's monitors flickered through multiple windows, bringing up the information she required for the new query. "Two officers, both transferred out of state two months ago. According to the record, school principal Edward McCall called in the gun situation."_

"_Who made the DOA call?" Hotch's stance told his team in the crowded room of the police station that some sort of action was imminent._

"_Our latest victim. Assistant principal Ken Downs."_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Gideon surmised the mother of the DOA victim might have a tie to the unsub. We knew that the mother had been meeting with a grief group facilitated by her sons' school councilor. Derek, Emily and Gideon were on their way to pick up the mother at her home. Hotch and I went to see the school councilor."

Bill cast a question out into the conversation. "Did she know anything?"

JJ's pause told him everything before she said another word. "She knew more than any of us gave her credit for."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_Hotch and JJ spotted their interviewee, Sally Wright walking stiffly down the far hallway of the school. _

"_Ms. Wright, we need a few more moments of your time." Hotch spoke first, the practiced ease of his approach allowed the school councilor the opportunity tighten her stance even more rigidly._

"_I've already given your team my statement, Agent Hotchner." Wright stated flatly. "If I remember anything, I'll be sure to contact you."_

"_We need to know about Dora Lucas, the mother of the student who died here about three months ago." Hotch said, not allowing the younger woman to walk away from the conversation lightly. "She attended grief counseling sessions with you. Have you've seen anything unusual about her behavior lately?"_

"_I discontinued my work with that group some time ago."_

"_Why?" Hotch responded with his trademark bluntness. _

_Wright shifted the weight of her large handbag to the other side of her body. "I began working on an anti-bullying curriculum with three other school districts. The state board of education has considered it a priority for schools to take a stronger stance toward peer hazing and violence. The guidelines have to be initiated by each school before the next school year. I've considered it to be the school's highest priority at the moment."_

"_There should be more concern over the multiple deaths surrounding this school's students and staff," JJ countered, standing as Hotch's strong right hand in the conversation._

_Hotch's voice never wavered. "What can you tell us about Mrs. Lucas' situation? She had to have confided or hinted at something regarding her son's death."_

_Wright's continence held firm, her eyes matched Hotch's characteristic coldness bite for bite. "Her son died. It was very tragic. The fact that he died while at school was heartbreaking to her."_

_The interview had become a battle of wills, and JJ calculated how long it would take her supervisor to slice through the broad information the councilor was feeding them. Then without warning, without any indication of conflict, the world turned upside down._

_JJ saw Hotch's reaction before she heard the sound of a gun being fired. The impact of a gun slug ripping through the side of his lower back caused the senior supervisor to begin falling to the ground, his shirt acting as a poor shield from the blood exploding from the wound. Somehow, his stance faltered and the bulk of his weight fell on JJ. _

_In the millisecond before the two of them hit the ground, JJ saw an unassuming looking woman, a pistol in her hand, walking determinedly from an adjacent hallway. Then the impact of her body and Hotch's immobilized form meeting the floor took all precedence in her mind. Hoch was heavier and a good foot taller than JJ, and the crush of that weight made the younger woman's head bounce off the cold tile flooring with overwhelming force._

_JJ's eyes watered. She saw stars, and went temporarily deaf. After what seemed like decades of silence and stillness, JJ surfaced from the momentary stupor. _

"…_conceited bitch!" Dora Lucas continued to hold the gun, her eyes focused on the now quivering school councilor. "You didn't do a damn thing about bulling when my boy was getting the short stick from you and the other sadistic bastards at this school!"_

_Her heart in her throat, JJ saw the expanse of blood flowing on her suit and on the floor. Hotch was barely conscious from the unexpected wound and the impact from falling. In a second, he had gone from the leader to becoming completely incapacitated. He hadn't worn his Kevlar vest. They rarely wore them for interviews._

_JJ pressed on her supervisor's pulse, relived he alive and still breathing. He was heavy and it took a moment to push him off to see where he'd been hit. But that was as far as she could get in the process. There was still a gun wielding woman to contend with. _

_Dora Lucas noticed JJ's recovery. "You!" She exclaimed. "I don't need you trying anything."_

"_I won't." JJ sat up slowly and tried to point out the obvious, putting down a glossy layer of calm and subtle guilt for the man bleeding next to her. _

_The gun fired again, a bullet catching Sally Wright in the shoulder. JJ flinched, the well schooled phrases of appeasement and sympathy dying on her lips._

_As the councilor sank to her knees, Dora Lucas approached the trio with a guarded wariness, keeping her attention heavily split between her quarry and the two federal agents on the ground._

"_They've all lied. From the very beginning. To everyone. To me. To my son. Telling me everything was fine. That kids will be kids and they've dealt with the problem. My son never brought a gun to school. He didn't even know where to get one. Two of the other students, a few of the larger group who ganged up on my boy; they cooked the whole thing up. Josh told me how he called both of them out to his guidance councilor and the principal a week before he died. The principal finally did something about the taunting, and the brutal treatment all the rest of the staff was turning a blind eye to. He called their parents. That was the best he could do. Not a conference, not a mediation. Just a phone call."_

_Her voice was shaking with a potent mixture of grief and anger. "I talked to the officer, the one who wasn't drinking himself under the table four states away. He told me my son never had a gun. The students told Mr. Downs that my son had a gun in his jacket pocket. After he called the police, Ken called Josh out of class to a back entrance of the school. When the officers arrived, my son had no clue what was happening."_

_JJ could see Dora Lucas' scenario playing out like a movie in her head. She could picture seventeen-year-old Josh Lucas being confronted by the assistant principal. Alone and without another witness, the young man had probably threatened to call his mom or the front office. But when the officers arrived abruptly, they mistook Josh's movement to his jacket pocket to be a threat._

"_They shot my son! Twice in the head! Twice!" Her voice was full of vehemence. "When they searched his coat all they found were his cell phone and a pocket calculator. Ken Downs knew he'd been pinned in a corner by his students. And he couldn't allow anyone in the school or the community to know what happened."_

_JJ pulled herself from the woman's story, her hand shielded inconspicuously near Hotch's jacket. She had to bide her time for a change in the dynamic to go for the gun her supervisor kept in his holster._

_Dora Lucas's control was slipping. Her breathing was erratic and the small muscles in her wrist were pulsing from the effort of keeping her weapon locked in place like a vice. "The administration used its connections to have the officers gagged and transferred. The assistant principal falsified a statement. The hospital took my son's body. The school and the little bastards who caused all this, they all pretended it never happened." _

_Hotch groaned, his head was cocked at an uncomfortable angle on the floor. He shifted, pulling his body up to his side and into a fetal position. Whether by fate or training, he was giving JJ the opportunity she needed to get them all out of a volatile situation. JJ's hand snaked to the holster, the object she needed was just within reach._

_Sally Wright was sobbing. Her eyes makeup was a murky river on her face and her shoulder was bleeding profusely. She didn't even look up when the mother of her deceased student readied her handgun for another shot._

"_My son is dead. My Josh. My boy. What good are you if you can't even help the kids who need you the most?"_

_JJ's hand found the weapon, and with perfect form and without a thought, her finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet broke free of the barrel, and made hit its killing mark._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

JJ was quiet for a long while. Her breathing was better, but she still hadn't broached the crux of her worries or her concerns.

Bill digested what she'd told him, rubbed his forehead thoughtfully and didn't wait for her to tell him anything else.

"I'm coming over." He rose up, and headed for his closet. Yanking his reliable travel bag from the side hook, he tossed the object on the bed and began filling it with the few items he needed. "I'll catch a flight from the airport and take a cab to your place."

The female voice over the phone took on a shaky tone. "But, your work. Your job…" She couldn't seem to finish her own sentence.

Bureau drawers opened and closed with efficiency, and within ten minutes he was throwing on a clean pair of jeans and one of his button down work shirts.

"I've got time coming to me," he responded with an odd sort of finality. One shoulder kept his ear to the phone as he rammed his feet into a pair of shoes. "I'm going to the airport right now." Taking a last look around, he grabbed his bag and headed toward the apartment door, picking his keys up off the counter on his way out.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

We are nearing the end of our tour. Please tip the driver. Submit a review.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: I finally feel like I'm somewhat back on top of this story. The three previous chapters were rough to write. But I'm pretty focused on how I want this fic to end, now I just have to sit down and string the words together.

As always a big thanks to my ever faithful beta reader, Tracy-Face.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Chapter Twelve**

_JJ: Come on, I don't know why I'm afraid of the woods. I just ... I am. Why is he still afraid of the dark?_

_MORGAN: Yeah, Reid, why are you still afraid of the dark?_

_REID: Because of the inherent absence of light._

_JJ: Oh, please._

_MORGAN: JJ, that was pretty good. Just remember, paybacks are a bitch._

_JJ: I'm shakin'._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sweet Jesus what a mess.

Derek Morgan shuffled through his paperwork again, wondering how the hell they'd ended up in this situation again. One team member in the hospital, another living through her personal hell of guilt. The thought of it all made his mind and body ache. And it wasn't the first time this had happened, had it? He tried not to think that bad luck was the reason for all their misery. Reid had reminded him earlier that day, in his somber timbre, that they'd beaten the odds so many times before, it was bound to catch up with them at some point. He had known the odds a long time.

The odds of a football player encountering an injury during their lifetime: 100 percent. The odds of a federal agent encountering an injury during their career: 100 percent. The odds of a team encountering injury or death during an investigation: 43 percent.

Man, he hated those numbers. Hated how they wrapped around his brain and bit at his inner strength like a starved tiger on the grasslands. He should have been accustomed to this feeling by now; that you didn't always win. That in every contest, someone always had to loose.

Yesterday, his team had nearly lost something. The man who was their seemingly unshakable pillar of strength and constancy. Hotch. Sure, they'd joke about how his tie was just knotted too tightly at times, but now…

Hell, it wasn't until he wasn't there taking charge and bringing out the best in all of them that his presence was keenly missed.

Later back at headquarters, Gideon had told them the simple truth. Hotch had nearly died from internal injuries and blood loss. But he was going to pull through.

That reassurance left a lot of room to dwell on the alternatives.

And JJ, God, JJ.

First the Henkle debacle and now this. Taking a life was one thing, but JJ laid a lot of the guilt for Hotch's near death experience on herself. That blame was a bit excessive and unnecessary in Derek's opinion, but he'd never been in that situation. It wasn't as if he could give her any pointers.

Derek leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and allowing the movement to straighten his aching back muscles. He stayed there for a few minutes, the gentle rocking motion of the chair lulling his mind and clearing the clutter from his thoughts. The abrupt closing of a nearby door snapped his attention back to the present. When he opened his eyes, he saw Penelope Garcia tottering out of her room, keys and purse in hand, ready to make the long walk out to her car. She was an angel to him and everyone at the BAU. Sweet, kind, a wicked sense of humor.

He didn't dwell on the need to hear her voice. He never thought much about it at all. Because thinking about his personal life was even now decidedly too painful. It was easier to have a place for everything in his life. Neat. Clean. No room for regrets.

His life was messy, hell it was sewer dredge at times, and there was no way he wanted to Penelope Garcia through any of that.

He wanted to keep her safe from the images and emotions which kept him up at night. And he wouldn't allow himself to think otherwise.

"Wat'sup?" Garcia asked, she looked tired, her smile looked a little too plastic from the string of days they'd just experienced. She leaned on the side of the desk and stood patiently for answer.

God, she knew him too well.

But there wasn't any way he was going to open up to her tonight. He didn't trust himself. So he slipped into the easy routine of small talk and a graceful exit.

"I was thinkin' of turning in." Derek said. "Going home. Feeding Clooney. Getting some sleep."

She really smiled at that, and it was beautiful. "Are you going to feed your face at some point too? Or are you going to fight your dog for the last can of Alpo?"

"It crossed my mind."

They both chucked. It was an easy moment. A good moment. But then the seriousness crept back in.

"How's your girl?" Derek asked, the softness of his voice relaying more of his concern than the words he'd just spoken.

Penelope's smile evened out, and her own worries seemed to steep around her. "I left a message. Told her to call me, even if she wasn't feeling up to it."

"Do you think she'll listen?"

A faint sigh escaped her lips. "She hates thinking she can't handle a situation. I know she feels guilty. Actually, I knew she feels guilty. Just like when Reid…" Garcia didn't finish the sentence. "She won't talk to any of us, that's for sure."

Derek's expression turned thoughtful. "Does she have anyone that she can talk to?"

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, she does. I hope he knows how to help her get through this."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bill shut the cab door, and headed up the front steps of JJ's apartment building. It was a very different arrival from the one he'd experienced earlier that year. He ignored the autumn tinted trees, the heavy dampness of the air and the general early morning rush of pedestrian and car traffic. He'd pulled an emotional blind down during his red-eye flight to Washington. He justified it as distancing himself from this situation to make a better judgment. It was a loaded lie, but it kept him from solid and focused for the emotional confrontation ahead.

Hoisting the travel bag higher on his shoulder, he held the door open for a handsome elderly woman and her toy poodle. He went through the motions of normalcy, walking the two flights of stairs and knocking at her door. Inside, his heart was seizing in its own form of a mild heart attack. She was his girlfriend, he reminded himself. Not a co-worker, or a fellow officer. And the procedures were unwritten for this sort of meeting.

The longest minute passed. He knocked again, this time adding "JJ, open the door." The words slipped out, products of closely reined fear and he winced as he heard them. They had been too forceful, but justified, and he hoped it wouldn't cost him too much of a penalty.

A tread of footfalls echoed through the door. A slow snap released twin indoor locks. JJ stood in the doorway, dressed in the clothes she'd probably worn since yesterday. Her blonde hair was thrown back in a harsh ponytail. The faint red tracks embossed on the skin of her face were clear evidence that she had been crying for a while. She opened her mouth to say something, but her lips shut abruptly, as if there weren't any words of use.

Bill couldn't remember if she met him or he went to her, but his bag lay forgotten on the floor inside her apartment and his arms were full of crying female. The cold and almost detached path he'd plowed to get to this moment melted away. He couldn't be the unbiased outsider with JJ. Not anymore. What hurt her affected him in the same manner, and he'd been short-sighted to think otherwise.

He let her cry, because in his experience, that was the best answer to the immediate problem. It gnawed his gut to see her so upset, but his JJ was a fighter. It was a cold sort of confidence, knowing she'd make her way out of the whole mess. Her sobs and tears didn't feel any less real, and his mind wasn't put to any sort of tangible ease. But it was enough to whisper comfort in her ear and mean each and every word he said.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They were laying in her bed, watching the breeze drift through the curtain windows. Hours had passed since he'd shown up at the door. He'd held her firmly as she cried herself dry. Then he'd insisted on a shower, breakfast and sleep.

JJ lifted her head from Bill's chest, somehow unafraid of how the next few sentences were pouring unfiltered from her thoughts. "I felt sorry for her," her voice was quiet. "Mrs. Lucas. She loved her son. Her grief drove her to do something totally out of character."

Bill traced the side of her cheek with his thumb and then the back of his hand. It was a comforting gesture, not only for his girlfriend but equally for himself. He was relieved that she was feeling better.

"Everything was so clear," she continued. "I was concerned for Ms. Wright, you know, the guidance councilor. She had a bullet in her shoulder. But I was more worried about Hotch. God, Hotch."

She tunneled her head into his shoulder, trying to erase the images cascading through her mind. Then she stilled, and brought her head back to his chest. "Gideon called this morning. Said that Hotch was going to pull through. He'll be out of the hospital in a week. Then he'll go home. Back to his wife and their little boy. It was so close. He almost didn't make it."

They were silent again for awhile. Bill's fingers steadily wove through her long blonde hair for what seemed to be hours. When he spoke, it was the most welcome sound she'd heard for two days. "You know what you're doing next?"

JJ nodded. "Yeah. I think I do."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

In her mind, it was the only option. She wasn't one for putting off an essential task just because she was afraid of the confrontation. It wasn't her style and it simply wasn't how she operated. Face forward. Take it as far as you can. Even if the situation was almost impossible to bear. Especially if that small part of her screamed orders to sprint in the other direction. That voice wasn't even acknowledged or for that matter taken very seriously.

It was the day after her appointment with the review board, and the meeting had done nothing to put her mind or even her perception of the shooting incident to rest. In theory, a session with the board of review was an opportunity to double check the facts, wade through any miscellaneous observations and make adjustments to an employee's personnel file. Again, in theory, it reassured the administration as well as the agent, that everything had been conducted as professionally and objectively as possible.

As the queen of influencing perception, JJ felt she had stage-managed the meeting well enough to return to work the next week. Which left the most important discussion for the present moment.

JJ walked through the hospital hallway, checked in with the nurses desk, and caught a deep breath before walking into room 407.

Hailey Hotchner was dozing at her husband's bedside, in stubborn defiance of the both her husband's and the presiding doctors orders. JJ glanced at her, then focused on the unmoving body to her left. Hotch was elevated slightly with only a few lights illuminating the ever pulsing monitors which stretched like tentacles from his body. A navy blue blanket was tucked lovingly around the lower half of his body, placed there by his wife no doubt, which effectively shielded the extent of his injury from public scrutiny. It chilled her blood to see him this way. She realized it was the first time she'd really looked at Hotch since the EMTs wheeled him away from the scene of the shooting. He was unhealthily pale, and a near week of stubble added a scraggily and haggard appearance to his face. The layover of anesthetics and painkillers had caused his skin to dry out, leaving his lips chapped, in some areas cracked and reluctantly healing.

Hotch's state of health rocked her sense of equilibrium. Her mind flashed through all the hours of working with him for the past four years and the steady method in which he executed his observant thoughts and precise movements. There was always something unmoveable about him; as if there was a certainty that somehow he had become immune to hurt.

It was one illusion JJ hated to see shattered.

JJ moved to the bedside, reaffirming her reasons for visiting, torn between saying something or letting an injured man rest, when Hotch opened his eyes halfway and sighed unexpectedly. With a slight humph, Hailey Hotchner awoke, and startled at the sight of JJ in the room.

"I didn't mean to wake you," JJ apologized quietly. Her gaze was torn between the bedridden man and his slightly rumpled wife. "I needed to know how he's doing."

"Fine, considering." Hotch's voice rumbled like a gravel truck.

Hailey smiled, her gaze brightening. "He had a rough patch there for a while, but he's going to be fine."

JJ nodded keeping her head upright and refraining from twisting the string hanging temptingly from her jacket hem. Her attention returned to Hotch. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute, sir, if you're up to it."

Hailey carefully constructed an excuse to check up on Jack and grab a cup of coffee before leaving the BAU agents alone in the room.

Even with his lack of energy, Hotch plowed into the conversation with his characteristic sobering acuteness. "Did you meet with the review board?" The hoarseness in his voice caused JJ to gentle her own tone.

"Yeah. Yesterday." JJ continued carefully, "Got my verdict the same day."

"That was quick."

She nodded. "I thought so too. But it seems they thought everything that could have been done…"

Hotch finished her statement "was done." The ghost of his familiar dry humor made a momentary appearance. "Yeah, I get the picture."

They were both silent for what seemed to be a decade, before JJ steeled herself for the next statement. She could do this without breaking down. Consciously, she knew this, but once she met Hotch's slightly glazed expression, JJ's carefully constructed veneer cracked.

"I'm so sorry, Hotch," she blurted. If she was disgusted with herself for the lack of control, she could at least walk away knowing she hadn't burst into tears during the whole exchange. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for everything."

"JJ," Hotch remanded gently. "There's nothing to apologize for. These things happen. Even to the best agents. You couldn't have foreseen a shooter taking advantage of that situation. She caught us both by surprise, and left you with very few options."

In that moment, JJ remembered why she felt privileged working for Aaron "Hard-ass" Hotchner. He was direct. He was fair. And he gave words with intense sincerity when the people around him needed it the most.

"I just feel like I didn't do enough."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Like I didn't watch your back. I wasn't quick enough to act."

Hotch took a moment to think before he responded, "I doubt either one of us could have changed the way things turned out, JJ."

"I just," She paused, her breath hitched. "I can't stop thinking that I didn't do enough to keep you out of here." JJ gestured to the hospital room surroundings.

"You're carrying over Reid's abduction when you have no reason to," Hotch said matter-of-factly.

"But doesn't one experience lead to another?" JJ asked.

Her supervisor looked thoughtful. "Sometimes. But this one doesn't qualify. You have to let it go, JJ, or it's going to flare up when you least expect it. Then you're putting peoples' lives in danger."

It wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it made sense. Even in a diminished state, Aaron Hotchner still carried all the skills of a prosecuting attorney. His case, just like his will, was like iron.

Hotch continued. "Tell me you'll get some help for this before you go back to work."

JJ nodded in a reluctant affirmation. "I promise."

"Good." He gave a satisfied tilt of the head, and closed his eyes. "We'll talk again when I get back to work."

"Yes, sir."

The conversation came to a curious, albeit quick close. JJ lingered for a few seconds before she turned to leave. She felt lighter somehow, as if her immediate burdens were lifted from her shoulders.

After a few paces, she heard Hotch shift slightly from his bed. "Oh, and JJ."

JJ turned. "Yes, sir?"

"Tell Bill LaMontagne I said hello." His eyes were mere slits, but his voice had taken on a dry tone. His face was relaxed, but one side of his mouth was turned up in what looked like a smirk.

JJ shook her head, baffled and somewhat shocked that he would bring this up now, and more importantly, how he knew anything about it at all. Bill was making lunch at her apartment, trying to be useful before his red-eye flight left later that night. JJ pushed those thoughts away. "How'd..." She paused. "Where'd you..."

"I'm a profiler, JJ," Hotch replied, pacing his speech as if he was addressing a young child. "And I'm very good at my job." His voice stilled for a moment, and his deep breathing indicated that he might have drifted off back to sleep.

JJ hesitated, and felt her body jump when her supervisor continued to speak. "If you really want to know, it was the coffee. The bags from Cafe Due Monde you gave Garcia after your last vacation. It wasn't difficult to figure out, really."

"I could have just liked the place and went back for vacation." She countered. A little of that old confidence was sliding back into place; a portion of that indefinable wholeness cycling into being.

This was the voice Aaron Hotchner remembered. He had to squash the urge to laugh because it pained him too much. Instead he drifted in the tide of the painkillers and delivered what he would remember as the most flippant yet truthful remark he'd made for quite some time.

"New Orleans isn't a place you'd go on vacation, JJ. Besides, you're forgetting. I profiled him too. Bill LaMontagne. He was intrigued by you before he even shook your hand. You got under his skin before the day was out. And he was yours by the time the case was over."

She cracked another smile, the first genuine one since the shooting. "You were sure of that?"

"He didn't stand a chance." Hotch quipped.

JJ let out an embarrassed laugh, her momentary shock being overlaid with concern for her supervisor's well being. Somehow, two quick tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes. "I'll be sure to tell him that. But I think you should try to sleep before you spill your guts any further."

A fresh flow of painkillers cycled through his IV, and Aaron Hotchner felt himself slipping back into sleep. "I'll just blame it on the drugs."

JJ smiled and quietly closed the door to the room on her way out.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Writers cannot live on Cheerios alone. Please leave a review.


	13. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.

Author Note: This is the last chapter. Thank the maker. BTW: After making a vow not to watch the season finale until I'd seen all of the episodes, I caved last night. And I'm certainly glad I did! Man, I can spot the plot, can't I? ;)

As always a big thanks to my ever faithful beta reader, Tracy-Face.

&

**Forging Connections**

By littlelights

**Epilogue**

_LaMontagne Jr.: Honey, can I borrow your hand a second?_

&

_Sixteen months later_

JJ looked out at the wide expanse of the Gulf of Mexico. From her place on the beach, the mid-winter water teased her ankles. Her new admirer was walking beside her, blinking away the salt spray from his eyes. Just up ahead, Bill was playing a game of catch with his new best friend, Kip. They shared a few similar traits, JJ thought, well toned and gifted with dark hair. Kip was cute, but her boyfriend still won the handsome contest. JJ looked down at the love-struck blonde next to her and razzled his furry head. Her companion gave her hand a warm lick in return.

Hotch had secured his team, in addition to JJ and Garcia, two weeks leave. For that, she was extremely grateful. Apart from spending time with her boyfriend, she didn't have any idea what to do with the time. Then, Bill made a bid for the time away. His cousin, Jerry Hollander, was leaving for Denver to take in part of the ski season, leaving his lovely old Florida beach house empty.

Given her experiences, it was a pretty far-out suggestion. Two weeks idling away at a beach house near Florida's panhandle wasn't what she had anticipated. Toronto, maybe. She'd always wanted to see Toronto. It was nothing close to what would have passed as an ideal vacation, but it certainly was a different type of experience.

When she'd met him last year, Jerry was a good natured bachelor who spent his retirement fishing, swimming and running on the beach with his two rowdy dogs; Kip the outgoing black lab and Stu, the slightly moronic yellow lab. When he had a yen to travel, Jerry usually kenneled the dogs. But when someone offered to dog sit his two best friends, Jerry made the deal a little sweeter by floating a set of keys to his beach house.

The largest snag in the house sitting plan, at least in her mind, were the dogs. She hadn't seen them before. It unsettled a part of her, to just trust that these pets weren't out to lunge for her jugular.

JJ had always been rather neutral when dogs were concerned. There was nothing wrong with petting a friendly dog, but since fending off Tobias Henkle's feral canines, she'd steered clear of animals all together.

So it would make sense that the biggest, dumbest dog in Florida would become irrevocably in love with her. Big ol' Stu, with a shiny coat and lion-sized paws, was an endless well of energy. When he wasn't investigating a marooned jellyfish or attempting to eat seaweed, Stu was running circles around her all the time. He wouldn't leave her side for more than a few minutes at a stretch. When he romped off to play with a flock of resting seagulls, JJ watched as he circled the birds in a one-sided game of keep-away, then abruptly rushed back to her with a happy expression on his face.

Against the backdrop of the sun and the water, Bill lobbed the tennis ball high into the air. With a powerful sprint, Kip followed the florescent sphere through the broad puddles on the beach. As the dog made his return, Bill turned and met JJ's gaze. She smiled and waved, petting a still adoring Stu. Her boyfriend returned the wave, his eyes were shining with easy contentment.

The routine of vacation life had them sleeping in, eating breakfast outside, and taking long walks with the dogs. Three days without phones or appointments. They hadn't wasted any of their time discussing work. And they took risks that didn't involve guns. Bill convinced her to eat out at a restaurant, which could be politely called a shack, which his cousin suggested. The best low country boil you'll ever have, Jerry had stated in the letter he'd left on the kitchen counter.

It was another one of those cultural differences. Pennsylvania meat and potato taste buds were becoming accustomed to spicy seafood concoctions. It had made her eyes water at first. And bless him, Bill had only rubbed her back and smiled ruefully while she inhaled half the water pitcher. But in a strange twist, southern boy was learning to appreciate the potency of pollen from the deciduous forest. A combination of unrelenting watery eyes and a couple early morning runs to the pharmacy for scripts of Claritin-D had knocked him down a few pegs.

Yes, their respective upbringings were continuing to provide hours of entertainment.

Bill motioned to Kip, and crossed the distance to give her a kiss on the cheek. "You hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat"

"Come'on, guys, let's go home." Bill entwined his hand with hers, and reached down to gesture both dogs back to the house. Both began to sprint ladders the long length of the beach. Their human companions were content to stroll through the solid wet sand, watching beach combers and men with metal detectors pack up their gear as the tide took over.

He was bursting to tell her something. JJ could read it on his face and in the way he fidgeted his fingers around her own. She smiled broadly, refraining from looking at him for a few moments just to work him up a bit.

"What?" she asked innocuously, giving in to his lazy smile and searching eyes.

"I was just glad you weren't packing heat when I stopped off for the shrimp."

This was interesting. She pulled him closer to keep her voice low. "Should I ask why?"

He hid his teasing amusement well, but she could see the subtle glint in his eyes and the way his mouth curved slightly that he was enjoyed baiting her. Finally, he said, "The girl at the party store was flirting with me."

"Did you reciprocate?"

"Why should I? Darlin', no one reciprocates like you."

Those words hit her in the stomach and sent chills up her spine. His grin made her flush hotly. Schooling herself to continue walking straight, she granted him a kiss, letting it last long enough to nibble on his bottom lip a bit.

"I could always help pick up the groceries from now on. Make sure I can protect you from picking up a few new admirers," she teased.

"I dunno. I saw the guy who works at the liquor counter. He's what you'd call easy on the eye."

"And you're concerned because?"

"I made a vow to serve and protect. And I don't want to arrest myself for making a point on top of a shop counter."

JJ had learned to read the innuendo in his voice by now. But she couldn't shake a quick mental picture of some poor store clerk's face meeting a seventies orange checkout counter. "And this little trick doesn't involve physical violence?"

"If you call what we did last night violent."

Now that was a mental picture.

All the breath in her lungs seemed to disappear when her mind shot back to the previous evening. Halfway through a TV movie Bill had gotten up to make more pop corn. She'd used the break as an excuse to whisper a few choice nothings in his ear while his attention was turned toward the microwave. One of her more risqué remarks sparked an abrupt change in his attentions. Three seconds later she found herself hoisted against the refrigerator with her top off and a masculine set of hands stroking everywhere.

She shook her head in a momentary daze. Having sex on a store counter was an arrestable offence, even if it was a rather non-violent way of making a point. Her boyfriend's stance was somewhat admirable, but totally inappropriate. Which is why he probably thought it would work.

"That could backfire, you know," She thought out loud. "He might want to join us."

"Or he could just start charging admission."

They laughed and groaned, then called the dogs away from chasing another colony of seagulls. Dinner wasn't going magically appear, and the pups needed to be fed. Washing their feet with an outside hose, they herded their charges into the house and set to work raiding the household pantry.

They ate grilled shrimp with heavy masses of vegetables and avoided eye contact with the dogs, who lamented slightly over their bowls of dry kibble. But they were appeased by the occasional dinner table treat. It made a person wonder just how much leeway Jerry gave Kip and Stu around the house.

JJ plopped a smaller shrimp into Stu's food bowl. The dog gazed at her adoringly. "You, dog, are spoiled rotten." JJ said with a grin. "Do you know just how lucky you are?" Stu was too busy chomping on his treat to comment.

Bill tossed a tail end of a shrimp in the air for Kip to catch. "I've heard Jerry shares a beer with them ever Friday night."

She startled. "No way!"

"One beer between the two of them. Jerry just pours it in their bowls. He's got some great stories about that. One time Stu fell off the back porch. I think the dog just slept it off. No hangover, I reckon."

The dogs lost interest in them while the dishes were being loaded in the washer. Both dogs trotted off to their respective dog beds, ready to take a light snooze in the air conditioned living room. It was a nice evening; the sand was still warm from the afternoon sun, and it was an ideal time to take in the sunset from the steps of the house boardwalk.

"This is what I like the most," Bill said as he wrapped his arm around JJ's shoulders. "Sitting here with you. Away from the office and the job."

"No phones," JJ added.

He nodded in agreement. "No phones. No case files. No co-workers."

They looked at each other and simultaneously said, "No paperwork."

"It's not going to be like this forever," JJ said with a slight sigh, and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "There's always some sort of work to do. I don't even want to think about it yet. I'm still on vacation."

He could hear it in her voice. The uncertainty of their situation. Separate lives running parallel to each other which only intersected for a few days at a time. And it weighed on them both. They'd talked about it, of course. But they never really gotten up to making plans. Her moving to a branch office in Louisiana. Him moving to up to Virginia. But it had never really seemed the right time to make a decision.

They looked out onto the ocean, watching the sun enter the water like a diver in extreme slow motion. His arm slid slowly down her back to rest at his side. Bill cleared his throat. "I got a call yesterday."

JJ looked at him suspiciously. "You got a call. You actually checked your phone?"

He turned the tables. "Like you didn't this morning?"

She shrugged. "It's a habit. Anyway, was it important?"

If he played his cards right, in twenty years he could look back at this moment and say this was one of the biggest turning points in his life. He swallowed, took a breath, and answered. "Police Chief called. Said there was spot open in D.C. for a transfer. Wanted to know if I was still interested."

"Still interested?"

When JJ parroted his words, it usually meant she was a little on edge. It was in his best interest to finish the story before she started to come up with original sentences.

"I asked about a transfer to D.C. half a year ago. I figured it would be a good time to get a place. Take you out to dinner every Friday night instead of calling you on the phone. Settle down a bit, I guess."

JJ's eyes were wide with wonder. This was certainly unexpected. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him it kinda depended on you. What you wanted. Whether or not you wanted to settle down with me."

What followed was the kind of silence which seemed to suck all the external noise out of the air. No more waves on the surf or birds crying in the air. All JJ could hear was her heart beating in her ears. She was sure it was just a few seconds later when her mouth moved on its own accord.

"Did you tell him yes?" Her voice didn't shake precisely, but it seemed to waver with a giddy energy.

He smiled then, a relieved and happy smile which seemed to smooth away all the little creases on his face. All those cases he'd worked. All the hours he'd walked the beat around the city. The hurricane. His dad's death. In that moment, they were gone.

"Then you'd better wear this." Bill said, unable to keep the subtle joy out of his voice. The diamond ring he'd kept in his pocket for the whole of their vacation finally sparkled in the outside sun. He held it in his outstretched palm for a moment, allowing JJ to gaze at its beauty before kissing her left hand and slipping the ring on her fourth finger.

She kissed him then, murmuring his name into his mouth and pulling him close. This time, they really were in world of their own. It was an outpouring of emotion which lasted until the barest sliver of sun was left stranded on the water.

"You're giving up your home for me," JJ's breath hitched. She curled her fingers in his hair rested her forehead to his own. "I know what it means to you."

He shushed her, and placed a delicate kiss on each of her eyelids. "It'll always be there." He flashed her a lover's smile. "Damn city's survived a couple hundred years. I think it can handle a couple decades more without me." He paused again, taking in the smell of her hair and the salt water. "No regrets?"

"None." She said firmly.

He helped her to her feet and pulled her close on their walk back to the house. There were other things on his mind tonight than the issues of transfers and house hunting. They were both experiencing this crux of change, and he knew that whatever happened in the future, he'd never regret asking her to marry him this night.

The door opened, and as he hoisted her into his arms and into the house, her delighted laugh carried throughout the room. Her pleas for release fell on deaf ears until they reached their bedroom door. As he shut it behind them, the only witnesses to their impromptu engagement were the two furry dogs, who were already fast asleep in their beds.

&

The train has reached its destination. Please deposit a review in its proper place.

&


End file.
